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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 



F. McKELVEY BELL 




■''he is a man after my own heart!" exclaimed MADAME 
COUILLARD 



THE 

FIRST CANADIANS 
IN FRANCE 

THE CHRONICLE OF A MILITARY 
HOSPITAL IN THE WAR ZONE 

BY 
F. McKELVEY BELL 



ILLUSTRATED BY 
CHRISTOPHER FULLEYLOVE 




NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



/ 



J] 6^^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, 
BT QEOBeE H. DORATST COMPANY 



OCT 25 1917 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



ICIA476720 



TO 

SUBGEON-GENERAL GUY CARLETON JONES, C.M.G. 

AND TO 

THE CANADIAN MEDICAL SERVICES OVERSEAS 

THESE PAGES ABE DEDICATED 

The wise and skillful guidance of the former and the efficient 
fulfilment of onerous duties by all have given to the Canadian 
Medical Service a status second to none in the Empire: The sick 
and wounded soldier has been made to feel that a Military Hospital 
may be not only a highly scientific institution — but a Home. 



PREFACE 

In glancing through these pages, now that 
they are written, I reahse that insufficient 
stress has been laid upon the heroism and self- 
sacrifice of the non-commissioned officers and 
men of the Army Medical Corps — the boys 
who, in the dull monotony of hospital life, de- 
nied the exhilaration and stimulus of the firing 
line, are, alas, too often forgotten. All honour 
to them that in spite of this handicap they give 
of their best, and give it whole-heartedly to 
their stricken comrades. 

The pill of fact herein is but thinly coated 
with the sugar of fiction, but if the reader can 
get a picture, however indefinite, of military 
hospital life in France, these pages will not 
have been written altogether in vain. 

F. McK B. 



Vll 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

"He Is a Man After My Own Heart!" ex- 
claimed Madame Couillard (See page 166) 

Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The Song Was Sad — But We Laughed and 
Laughed Until We Wept Again 98 

Rene Had Risen in the Excitement of His De- 
scription 162 

"How Can You?" She Cried Involuntarily, 
"How Can a Little Lad Like You Bear to 
Kill Men with a Bayonet?" 180 

German Wounded 190 



IX 



THE FIEST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 



THE 

FIRST CANADIANS IN 
FRANCE 



CHAPTER I 

We were a heterogeneous lot — no one could 
deny that — all the way down from big Bill 
Barker, the heavyweight hostler, to little Hux- 
ford, the featherweight hustler. 

No commanding officer, while sober, would 
have chosen us en masse. But we weren't 
chosen — we just arrived, piece by piece; and 
the Hammer of Time, with many a nasty 
knock, has welded us. 

One by one, from the farthest corners of the 
Dominion, the magic magnet of the war drew 
us to the plains of Valcartier, and one by one 
it dropped us side by side. Why some came 
or why they are still here God knows! Man 
may merely conjecture. 

Divers forces helped to speed us from our 
homes : love of adventure, loss of a sweetheart, 
family quarrels, the wander-spirit, and, among 
[13] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FEANCE 

many other sentiments — patriotism. But only- 
one force held us together : our Colonel ! With- 
out him, as an entity, we ceased to exist. His 
broad-minded generosity and liberal forbear- 
ance closed many an angry breach. His love 
of us finds its analogy only in the love of a 
father for his prodigal son. 

Long after we reached France, when the 
dull monotony of daily routine had somewhat 
sobered us, one early morning the sweet but 
disturbing note of the bugle sounding the 
reveille brought me back from dreams of home. 
I lay drowsily listening to its insistent voice. 
The door of my room opened softly, and the 
orderly stole in. 

He was a red-cheeked, full-lipped country 
lad, scarce seventeen years of age. He knelt 
down before the fireplace and meditatively 
raked the ashes from its recess. He was a slow 
lad; slow in speech, slower in action, and his 
big dreamy blue eyes belied his military bear- 
ing. 

I turned over in bed to get a better view of 
him. 

"What freak of fancy brought you so far 
from home, Wilson?" I queried. 
[14] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Dunno, zur," he drawled. "Not much fun 
hustHn' coals in the mornin' nur pullin' teeth 
in the afternoon." For Wilson, among his 
multitudinous duties, was dental orderly too. 

"There's such an air of farm and field about 
you, Wilson, that sometimes, at short range, 
I imagine I get a whiiF of new-mown hay." 

He sat up on his haunches, balancing the 
shovel upon his outstretched hand. The pool 
of memory was stirred. A hazy thought was 
struggling to the surface. He looked dream- 
ily toward me for a moment before he replied. 

"I wuz born an' raised in the country, zur," 
he said. "When the war broke out I wuz pick- 
in' apples on dad's farm. I didn't like my job. 
Gee! I wish't I'd stayed an' picked 'em now." 

How we ever taught Wilson to say "Sir," 
or even his corruption of the word, must re- 
main forever shrouded in mystery ; but it was 
accomplished at last, just like many other great 
works of art. 

The Canadian spirit of democracy resents 
any semblance of a confession of inferiority, 
and the sergeant-major's troubles were like 
unto those of Job. Military discipline com- 
menced in earnest when the ship left the har- 
[15] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

hour at Quebec, and has hung over us like a 
brooding robin ever since. 

It was an eventful morning to us (and to 
England) when our fleet of thirty ocean liners, 
with its freight of thirty-three thousand sol- 
diers, steamed slowly into the harbour at Ply- 
mouth and dropped anchor. 

For two glorious October weeks we had 
bedecked the Atlantic. His Majesty's fleet 
night and day had guarded us with an ever- 
increasing care. I can still look over the star- 
board rail and see the black smoke of the 
Gloria prowling along in the south, and, afar 
off in the north, the Queen Mary watching 
our hazardous course. The jaunty little 
Charyhdis minced perkily ahead. 

There were other battleships, too, which 
picked us up from time to time; and the 
Monmouth, on the last voyage she was des- 
tined to make, steamed through our lines 
one day. The brave fellows, who were so 
soon to meet a watery grave, lined up upon 
her deck, giving us three resounding cheers 
as she passed by, and we echoed them with 
a will. 

Captain Reggy, our dapper mess secretary, 
[16] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

was pacing the hurricane deck one day. From 
time to time his gaze turned wistfully across 
the waves to the other two lines of ships 
steaming peacefully along side by side. 
Something weighty was on his mind. Oc- 
casionally he glanced up to the military sig- 
nalling officer on the bridge, and with in- 
explicable interest watched his movements 
with the flags. 

"I say," Reggy called up to him, "can 
you get a message across to the Franconia?" 

"She's third ship in the third line — a little 
difficult, I should say," the signaller replied. 

"But it can be done, can't it?" Reggy 
coaxed. 

"Yes, if it's very important." 

"It's most important. I want to send a 
message to one of the nurses." 

The signalling lieutenant leaned both el- 
bows upon the rail and looked down in grin- 
ning amazement upon his intrepid interlocu- 
tor. 

"What the d 1! I say, you're the sort 

of man we need at the front — one with plenty 
of nerve!" 

[17] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Be a sport and send it over!" Reggy 
coaxed. 

"All right— I'll take a chance." 

"Ask for Nursing Sister Marlow. Give 
her Captain Reggy's compliments and best 
wishes, and will she join him on board for 
dinner this evening, seven o'clock!" 

There was a flutter of flags for several 
seconds, while the ridiculous message passed 
across from ship to ship. Reggy waited anx- 
iously for a reply. 

In less than ten minutes from across the 
deep came this very lucid answer: "Nursing 
Sister Marlow's compliments to Captain 
Reggy. Regrets must decline kind invita- 
tion to dinner. Mai de mer has rendered 
her hors de combat. Many thanks." 

On the last day of our journey the speedy 
torpedo boat destroyers rushed out to meet 
us and whirled round and round us hour 
by hour as we entered the English Channel. 
Soon the welcome shores of England loomed 
through the haze, and the sight sent a thrill 
through all our hearts. 

We had scarce dropped anchor when, from 
the training ship close by, a yawl pulled 
[18] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

quickly toward us, "manned" by a dozen or 
more lads from a training ship. They rowed 
with the quick neat stroke of trained athletes, 
and as the boat came alongside ours they 
shipped their oars and raised their boyish voices 
in a welcoming cheer. We leaned over the side 
of our ship and returned their greeting with 
a stentorian heartiness that startled the sleep- 
ing town. 

Showers of small coin and cigarettes were 
dropped into their boat, and the way in 
which they fought for position, scrambling 
over or under one another, upsetting this 
one or knocking down that, showed that these 
lads were quite capable of upholding all the 
old fighting traditions of the British Navy. 

A tug-boat soon steamed alongside, too, 
and down the accommodation-ladder scram- 
bled those of us who were lucky enough to 
have permission to go ashore. 

"Come along, Reggy," I shouted. But 
Reggy shook his head sorrowfully, and his 
handsome face was clouded. 

"Just my rotten luck to be orderly officer 
on a day like this!" he replied. "To-day 
I guard the ship, but to-morrow — oh, to- 
[19] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

morrow!" Reggy held out both hands in 
mock appeal to the shore: "Me for the red 
paint and city lights!" 

Progress up the streets of Devonport was 
slow. Thousands of troops already landed 
were marching to the time of "The Maple 
Leaf Forever," and every foot of pave- 
ment or sidewalk was packed with strug- 
gling but enthusiastic humanity shouting it- 
self hoarse in delirious welcome. 

We were on the upper deck of a tram- 
car, leaning over the throng, and eagerly 
looking for the faces of friends in the ranks 
of a passing battalion. They swung along 
to the music of their band — a clean-cut, well- 
set-up, manly lot, who marched with the firm 
independent step of the free born. Sud- 
denly our colonel discovered a familiar face 
among the khaki-clad below. There is no mili- 
tary precedent for what he did; years of 
training fell away on the instant. He leaned 
from the car and shouted: 

"Hello, 'Foghorn'! What cheer?" 

"Foghorn" looked up. His right arm was 
somewhat hampered, from a military point 
of view, by reason of being about the waist 
[20] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

of a pretty girl, who accommodatingly 
marched along with the battalion in gen- 
eral, and "Foghorn" in particular. 

"Hello, Jack," he bellowed in a voice which 
easily accounted for his nickname. "Lots of 
cheer. Can't salute. One arm busy! Other 
is glass arm from saluting the brass hats. 
See you later. Good luck!" 

And thus our cosmopolitan and ultra- 
democratic battalion passed on. 

Some one has said that the Englishman is 
temperamentally cold. It can't be proved by 
Devonport or Plymouth. His temperature 
in both towns registered ninety-eight degrees 
in the shadiest and most secluded spots. And 
the women and children! Banish all thought 
of British frigidity! The Canadians in Eng- 
land never discovered it. 

The passion of the Devonport children 
for souvenirs in the shape of pennies and 
buttons became so violent in a few hours 
that our small coin was likely to become 
extinct and our buttons merely things that 
used to be. Every time a soldier appeared 
upon the street he was instantly surrounded 
[21] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

by a bevy of insistent and persistent mendi- 
cants. 

Once we sought refuge in a cooling spot 
where glasses tinkle and the beer foams 
high — and children might not follow there. 
The pretty barmaid smiled. The second in 
command twirled his long moustache and 
fixed the maiden with his martial eye. 

"What will you have, sir?" she inquired 
sweetly. 

The senior major was always gallant to 
a pretty girl. He drew himself up to his 
full six feet, two, and saluted. A mellow line 
from "Omar Khayyam" dropped from his 
thirsty lips: 

'^A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou 
Beside me singing in the wilderness." 

How much further he might have gone 
one cannot say. The girl held up a reprov- 
ing finger and exclaimed: 

"Ah, I see it is black coffee the gentle- 
man requires." 

But the major's poetic spirit was aroused. 
"Avaunt coffee," he cried. 
[22] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

''Shall I distress my ruddy soul 
With dusky dregs from coffee urn? 
Far sweeter J sweety to quench its fire 
With wine for which the 'innards' yearn. 

A glass of beer, please." 

The adjutant leaned over toward me and 
hazarded, in a hoarse whisper: 

"I presume they have no ice." 

The barmaid's red cheeks dimpled and 
two straight rows of pearly teeth shone upon 
him, as she answered for me: 

"Your presumption is ill-founded, young 
man. We have plenty of ice with which to 
temper the hot young blood of the Ca- 
nadians." 

The adjutant looked helplessly up, bereft 
of repartee; then apostrophised the ceiling: 

"And these are the stupid Englishwomen 
we have been led to expect!" 

Our education was going on apace. 

A few moments later we emerged and dis- 
covered ourselves in a veritable whirlpool 
of young monetary gluttons. 

"Penny, sir! penny! penny!" they shouted 
in staccato chorus. Our supply of pennies 
[23] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

had long since been depleted. An idea struck 
me. 

"See here," I said in serious tone. "We're 
only a lot of poor soldiers going to the war. 
We can't always be giving away pennies. 
We need pennies worse than you do." 

A sudden hush fell upon the little circle. 
Some looked abashed, others curiously un- 
certain, a few sympathetic. The silence lasted 
a full minute. We all stood still looking at 
one another. 

"Can any little boy or girl in this crowd 
give a poor soldier a penny to help him 
along to the war?" I asked quietly. 

Again silence. Finally a little ragged tot 
of about eight years of age, carrying a baby 
in her arms, turned to her companions and 
said: "Here, hold the baby for me and I'll 
give the poor fellow a penny." She dived 
deep in the pocket of her frock, brought out 
a penny, ha'penny (her total wealth) and 
held it out to me. 

Lieutenant Moe stepped forward. "Look 
here, major," he said sternly, "do you mean 
to say you'll take that money from a young- 
ster?" 

[24] . 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"I do," I replied, without a smile. 

"I won't permit it," he cried. 

Here was an embarrassing situation. I 
couldn't explain to him without confessing 
to the child as well. I wished to gauge how 
much patriotism beat in those little hearts, 
what sacrifice they were prepared to make 
for their country; and here was one measur- 
ing up to the highest ideals, I daren't either 
withdraw or explain. 

"I must have the pennies, Moe, and I am 
going to take them," I replied firmly. "Stand 
aside, please!" 

Military discipline came to the rescue. Moe 
saluted stiffly and stepped back. The little 
girl gravely handed over the pennies and 
took back her baby. 

"Any others?" I asked. 

Some of the children declared they had 
none; a few looked sheepish and hung their 
heads. I slipped a sixpence into the hand 
of the little lady. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" exclaimed Moe. 
"Here's another penny for you," and he 
handed the bewildered child half a crown. 

A shout of surprise and dismay went up 
[25] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

from the other children, who realised too 
late that they had failed in the test. 

"The drinks are certainly on me!" Moe 
cried. "About turn!" 

Sometimes when I feel that the world is 
sordid and mean I go to my trunk and look 
at those two coins, and I know that some- 
where, in a frail little body, beats a generous 
heart, and I feel that after all part of the 
world is worth while. 



[26] 



CHAPTER II 

Reggy was on shore at last. He said he 
felt much better walking alone up street 
— ^more as if he owned the town! 

It's a strange sensation stepping on solid 
ground after weeks on shipboard. There is 
a lack of harmony between oneself and the 
ground. You rock — the ground stands still; 
you stand still — the ground rocks, like an 
angry sergeant. 

The senior major was on the corner, hold- 
ing an animated conversation with a beauti- 
fully gowned young lady, to whom he bid 
a hasty adieu as Reggy hove in sight. 

"Corking girl, that," said Reggy mischie- 
vously. 

"Where?" demanded the major, looking 
about. 

"The young lady to whom you just avoided 
introducing me." 

"It's rather a remarkable coincidence," said 
[27] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the major, avoiding controversy, "that I 
should run across a relation in this far-away 
place!" 

"Very!" Reggy replied drily. "Family's 
fond of travel, I take it." 

A tall, well-knit young subaltern elbowed 
his way through the crowd and joined the 
pair. Reggy greeted him: 

"Better come and have dinner with your 
brother and me, Tom. I feel he needs good 
company and a chaperon or two!" 

The trio entered the rotunda of the Royal. 

A distinguished looking gentleman and a 
prepossessing lady of middle age stood chatting 
together. Their voices were agitated, and 
the three officers could not avoid overhearing 
snatches of the conversation. 

"He is on the Cassandra, and in this med- 
ley of ships no one seems to know where his 
is anchored," the man was saying. 

"Dear me," sighed the lady. "To think 
that our boy should be so near and that 
we should not be able to see him! It's dread- 
ful!" 

"But we must find him," the man declared 
[28] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

reassuringly. "Surely there is some way 
of reaching the ship?" 

"They tell me no one is allowed on board; 
and when the battalion disembarks they will 
be marched away. What shall we do?" she 
cried in great distress. 

Reggy's impulsive heart was touched. He 
approached them and respectfully saluted. 

"A thousand pardons, sir," he said, "for 
breaking in upon a private conversation, but 
I couldn't help overhearing your words. Can 
I be of any assistance to you?" 

"It is very kind of you, indeed," the man 
answered in a rich voice of unusual gentility. 
"Perhaps you can help us. My son is aboard 
the Cassandra. We haven't seen him since 
he went to Canada four years ago. He is 
only a Tommy, so cannot come ashore, and 
it seems impossible to get into communica- 
tion with him." 

"What luck!" Reggy exclaimed. "His ship 
and ours are anchored side by side; so close, 
in fact, that we have a connecting gang- 
way." 

"Oh, do you think we could get out to 
[29] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

him?" the mother asked anxiously. "We 
have no permit to visit the ships." 

"If you can get authority to enter the 
dockyards, I'll see what I can do to get 
you aboard to-morrow noon," Reggy an- 
swered. "I'll meet you at the quay." 

"God bless you!" exclaimed the lady, with 
tears in her eyes. 

The following day, true to his word, Reggy, 
with a written permit in his pocket, ushered 
Mr. and Mrs. Hargreaves aboard the ship. 

"You will stay and lunch with me," said 
Reggy. "I'll get your boy across, and we'll 
all lunch together." 

"But I was under the impression that 
Tommies were not allowed to dine with of- 
ficers," protested Mr. Hargreaves. 

"The deuce! I'd forgotten all about that," 
Reggy exclaimed, as he scratched his head 
perplexedly. "Ah, I have it," he ejaculated 
a moment later; "he shall be an officer during 
the meal. I'll lend him a tunic. No one else 
on board will know." 

"But I don't wish you to get yourself into 
trouble," Mr. Hargreaves remonstrated. 

Reggy laughed. 

[30] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"I love such trouble," he cried, "and the 
risk fascinates me. I'll be back in a mo- 
ment." And he dashed off in his impetuous 
way. 

In a short time he returned, bringing with 
him a handsome but much embarrassed youth, 
wearing a captain's uniform. But the sight 
which met his eyes banished all thought of 
clothes. 

"Mother! Father!" he cried; and in a 
moment was clasped in his mother's arms, 
while tears of joy she didn't strive to hide 
rolled down her cheeks. The old gentleman 
turned his head aside to hide his own emo- 
tion, and Reggy, feeling de trop, slipped 
quietly away. 

A few days later our ship was dragged 
slowly into dock by two small but power- 
ful tug-boats. The boys who had been caged 
on board for a full week in sight of but un- 
able to reach the land shouted and danced 
for joy. The noise of the donkey engine 
pulling our equipment out of the hold was 
to us the sweetest sound on land or sea. 

We were almost the last ship to dock, and 
a thousand boys were impatiently awaiting 
[31] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

their turn to step on English soil. Machine 
guns, boxes of rifles and ammunition, great 
cases of food and wagons came hurtling 
through the hatchway, vomited from the 
depths below. With great speed and regu- 
larity they were deposited on the quay, while 
heavy motor lorries, piled high with freight, 
creaked from dock to train. 

From across the quay, and in awesome 
proximity, the great guns of the battle cruis- 
ers Tiger and Benbow yawned at us. As 
far as one might look heavily armoured men- 
of-war, ready to sail or in process of con- 
struction, met the eye, and the deafening 
crash of the trip-hammer stormed the ear. 
Britain may well be proud of her navy. Its 
size and might are far beyond our ken. 
Patiently, in peaceful harbour, or on sea, she 
lies in wait and longs for Germany's inevi- 
table hour. 

The hospitality of the citizens of Devon- 
port and Plymouth will long remain a pleas- 
ant recollection. First impressions linger and 
our first impressions there still stir up de- 
lightful memories. 

[ 32 ] 



THE FIKST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Now, then, look sharp there! Stow them 
adoos an' get aboard!" 

It was the raucous voice of Sergeant Honk 
which thus assailed his unwilling flock. The 
boys were bidding a lengthy farewell to the 
local beauties, who had patriotically followed 
them to the train. 

The sergeant was hot and dusty, and 
beaded drops of sweat dripped from his un- 
washed chin. His hat was cocked over one 
eye, in very unmilitary style. The Tom- 
mies, under the stimulating influence of two 
or more draughts of "bitter" purchased at 
a nearby bar, were inclined to be jocose. 

" 'Ave another drink, 'Onk!" cried one, 
thrusting a grimy head from the train win- 
dow and mimicking Honk's cockney accent. 
This subtle allusion to previous libations 
aroused the sergeant's ire. 

"Oo said that?" he shouted wrathfully, as 
he turned quickly about. "Blimey if yer ain't 
got no more disc'pline than a 'erd uv Alberta 
steers! If I 'ears any more sauce like that 
some one 'ull be up for 'office' in th' morn- 
in'!" 

[33] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The culprit had withdrawn his head in time, 
and peace prevailed for moment. 

"What's that baggage fatigue doin'?" he 
cried a moment later. "D'ye think y'er at 
a picnic — eatin' oranges? Load them tents!" 

The orange-eating "fatigue," looking very 
hot and fatigued indeed, fell reluctantly to 
work. 

Sergeant Honk was not beautiful to look 
upon — his best friends conceded this. His 
nose was bent and red. He had one fixed 
and one revolving eye, and when the former 
had transfixed you, the latter wandered aim- 
lessly about, seeking I know not what. He 
was so knock-kneed that his feet could never 
meet. I think it was the sergeant-major in 
Punch who complained that "it was impos- 
sible to make him look 'smart,' for when his 
knees stood at attention his feet would stand 
at ease." 

To see Honk salute with one stiff hand 
pointing heavenward and his unruly feet ten 
inches apart has been known to bring a wan 
sweet smile to the face of blase generals; but 
subalterns, more prone to mirth, have some- 
times laughed outright. 
[34] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Some one had thrown a banana peel upon 
the station platform. Honk stepped back- 
ward upon its slippery face. He didn't fall, 
but his queer legs opened and shut with a 
scissor-like snap that wrenched his dignity 
in twain. 

"Fruit's the curse of the army," he mut- 
tered. 

Somehow we got aboard at last — officers, 
non-commissioned officers and men. The 
crowd cheered a lusty farewell, and amidst 
much waving of pocket handkerchiefs and 
hats, Plymouth faded away, and the second 
stage of our journey began. 

It was midnight when we pulled into Lav- 
ington station. There is no village there — 
merely a tavern of doubtful mien. Rain was 
falling in a steady drizzle as we emerged 
upon the platform and stood shivering in 
the bleak east wind. The transport officer, 
who had been awaiting our arrival, ap- 
proached the colonel and saluted. 

"Rather a nasty night, sir," he observed 
courteously. 

"Bad night for a march," the colonel re- 
[35] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

plied. "My men are tired, too. Hope we 
haven't got far to go?" 

"Not very, sir; a matter of eight or nine 
miles only." 

The colonel glanced at him sharply, think- 
ing the information was given in satirical 
vein; but the Englishman's face was inscru- 
table. 

"Nine miles!" he exclaimed. "That may 
be an easy march for seasoned troops, but 
my men have been three weeks on ship- 
board." 

"Sorry, sir, but that's the shortest route." 

"Thanks; we'll camp right here." The 
colonel was emphatic. 

"In the rain?" the Englishman inquired 
in some surprise. 

"Yes. What of it?" 

"Nothing, sir; but it seems unusual, that's 
all." 

"We're unusual people," the colonel an- 
swered dryly. "Quartermaster, get out the 
rubber sheets and blankets. The station plat- 
form will be our bed." 

The transport officer saluted and* retired. 

The adjutant was weary and sleepy. He 
[36] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

had vainly tried a stimulating Scotch or two 
to rouse his lagging spirit. 

"Fall in, men," he shouted. "'Shun! Right 
dress. Quartermaster, issue the blankets, 
please." 

The quartermaster was disposed to argue 
the point. The blankets would all be wet 
and muddy, and damaged with coal cinders; 
but he was finally overruled. 

The adjutant turned to look at the men. 
Their line had wabbled and showed strange 
gyrations. 

''Will you men stand in line?" he cried. 
"How do any of you ever expect to succeed 
in life if you can't learn to stand in a straight 
line?" With which unanswerable argument 
and much pleased with his midnight philos- 
ophy, he relapsed into his customary genial 
smile. 

At last the blankets were distributed, and 
in an hour the station platform and bridge 
over the tracks looked like the deck of an 
emigrant steamer. Wherever the eye reached, 
the dimly-lighted platform showed rows of 
sleeping men, rolled up and looking very like 
sacks of potatoes lying together, 
[37] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 



Five of US officers turned into the ex- 
pressman's hut, and in the dark fell into 
whatever corner was available. Reggy and 
I occupied either side of an unlighted stove, 
and throughout the jumpy watches of the 
night bruised our shins against its inhospi- 
table legs. 

Dawn was breaking, and breaking darkly, 
too, as the dim shadow of the expressman 
came stumbling across the platform through 
rows of growling men. At last he reached 
his office, and, all unconscious of our pres- 
ence, stepped within. He stepped upon the 
sleeping form of the adjutant, and the form 
emitted a mighty roar. The expressman stag- 
gered back in amazement, giving vent to this 
weird epigram: 

"Every bloomin' 'ole a sleepin' 'ole!" 

"You'll 'ave to get up," he cried indig- 
nantly when he had recovered from his as- 
tonishment. "This ain't a bloomin' boardin'- 
'ouse!" 

"Could you return in half an hour?" Reggy 
queried in drowsy tones, but without opening 
his eyes. 

[38] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"No. I couldn't return in 'alf an hour," 
he mocked peevishly. 

"Run away like a good fellow, and bring 
some shaving water — have it hot!" Keggy 
commanded. 

"Oh, I'll make it 'ot for you all right, if 
you don't let me into my office," he retorted 
angrily. 

Might is not always right, so we reluctantly 
rose. We had had three hours of fitful sleep 
— not too much for our first night's soldiering. 
Hot coffee, cheese and biscuits were soon 
served by our cooks, and we prepared for 
our first march on English sod. 

No one who made that march from Lav- 
ington to West Down North will ever for- 
get it. Napoleon's march to Moscow was 
mere child's play compared with it. Reggy 
said both his corns were shrieking for Blue 
Jays and when Bill Barker removed his socks 
(skin and all) it marked an epoch in his life, 
for both his feet were clean. 

Every fifteen minutes it rained. At first 

we thought this mere playfulness on the part 

of the weather; but when it kept right on 

for weeks on end, we knew it to be distem- 

[39] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

per. By day it was a steady drizzle, but at 
night the weather did its proudest feats. 
Sometimes it was a cloudburst; anon an ordi- 
nary shower that splashed in angry little 
squirts through the canvas, and fell upon 
our beds. 

And the .mudl We stood in mud. We 
walked in mud. We slept in mud. The 
sky looked muddy, too. Once, and only 
once, the moon peeped out — it had splashes 
of mud on its face! 

Reggy loved sleep. It was his one pas- 
sion. Not the sweet beauty sleep of youth, 
but the deep snoring slumber of the full- 
blown man. But, oh, those cruel "Orderly 
Officer" days, when one must rise at dawn! 
Reggy thought so, too. 

Six a.m. The bugle blew "Parade." Reggy 
arose. I opened one eye in time to see 
a bedraggled figure in blue pyjamas stagger 
across the sloppy floor. His eyes were heavy 
with sleep, and his wetted forelock fell in a 
Napoleonic curve. The murky dawn was 
breaking. 

Outside the tent we could hear the sergeant- 
[ 40 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

major's rubber boots flop, flop, across the 
muddy road. 

"Fall in, men! Fall in!" His tones, di- 
luted with the rain, came filtering through 
the tent. It was inspection hour. 

Reggy fumbled at the flap of the tent, 
untied the cord, and through the hole thus 
made thrust his sleep-laden head. 

"Parade, 'shun!" shouted the sergeant- 
major (a sly bit of satire on his part). The 
warning wasn't needed. The sight of Reg- 
gy's dishevelled countenance was enough; Bill 
Barker himself "shunned." Somewhere from 
the depths of Reggy's head a sleepy muf- 
fled voice emitted this succinct command: 

"Serg'nt-major; dish-mish th' parade." 

"Right turn! Dis-miss!" With a shout 
of joy the boys scampered ofl* to their tents. 

A moment later Reggy tumbled into bed 
again, and soon was fast asleep. And within 
two hours, at breakfast, he was saying, with 
virtuous resignation: "How I envied you 
lucky devils sleeping-in this morning! I was 
up at six o'clock inspecting the parade." And 
the halo of near-truth hovered gently about 
his head. 

[41] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Thus passed three weeks of rain and mud. 
In spite of ourselves we had begun to look 
like soldiers. How we ever developed into 
the finest hospital unit in the forces none 
of us to this day knows — and none but our- 
selves suspects it yet. We had, and have still, 
one outstanding feature — a sort of native 
modesty. Whatever in this chronicle savours 
of egotism is merely the love of truth which 
cannot be suppressed. 

And then, one eventful day, the surgeon- 
general came to inspect us. He seemed 
pleased with us. Presently he passed into 
the colonel's tent, and they had a long and 
secret conference together. Finally the pair 
emerged again. 

"What about your horses?" the general 
queried. 

The horses had been our greatest worry. 
They came on a different boat, and the two 
best were missing or stolen. Once Sergeant 
Honk discovered them in the lines of an- 
other unit, but was indiscreet enough to pro- 
claim his belief to the sergeant-major of that 
unit. When we hurried down to get them 
they were gone. No one there had ever 
[42] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

heard of a horse of the colour or design which 
we described. We were discouraged, and 
in our despair turned to the senior major, 
who was a great horseman and knew the 
tricks of the soldier horse-thief. 

"Don't get excited," he said reassuringly. 
"They've only hidden away the horses in a 
tent, after you chumps recognised them. To- 
morrow, when they are not suspicious, I'll go 
down and get them." 

And on the morrow mirabile dictu he se- 
cured them both. 

So the colonel answered: "The horses are 
here, and ready, sir." 

Ready for what? There was a tenseness 
in the air — a sense of mystery that could 
not be explained. We listened again, but 
could only catch scraps of the conversation, 
such as "Transport officer," "Nine a.m." 
"Don't take the mess tent or any tents but 
hospital marquees." 

Something was brewing and brewing very 
fast. At length the colonel saluted, and the 
general left. 

"What news, Colonel?" we criea breath- 
[43] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

lessly, as soon as discretion allowed. And he 
let fall these magic words : 

"We are under orders to move. We shall 
be the first Canadians in France!" 



[44] 



CHAPTER III 

It was exactly 10 p.m. as Bill Barker and 
Huxford, with the heavy team and wagon, 
drove up to the colonel's tent. 

"Do you think you can find your way 
to Southampton in the dark?" the colonel 
asked Barker somewhat anxiously. 

"Yes, sir. I've never been lost in my life 
-sober." The afterthought was delivered 
with a reminiscent grin. 

"Remember, no 'booze' until the horses are 
safely in the town; and a glass of beer will 
be quite enough even then," the colonel ad- 
monished him. 

"Never fear, sir," Bill replied, as he sa- 
luted. With a last long look at the camp 
he said: "Good-night, sir," and the horses 
started down the muddy road. 

Why we should still have any affection 

for that camp in which none of us ever wore 

a dry stitch of clothes or knew a moment's 

comfort, is merely another illustration of the 

[45] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

perversity of human nature. Like Bill Sikes' 
dog, our love is stronger than our common 
sense. For a moment we stood watching the 
team pass down through the lines toward 
the unknown south, and then we turned in 
to sleep. 

At 3 a.m. our camp was all astir, and the 
dull yellow glow of candles and lanterns shin- 
ing through the tents dotted the plain. Here 
and there brighter lights flitted to and fro, 
as the men proceeded rapidly with the work 
of packing up. 

And what a medley of goods there was! 
Blankets and rubber sheets were folded neatly 
into their canvas covers; stoves and pots 
and pans were crated; boxes of cheese, jam 
and bully-beef, together with bags of bread 
were carried out of the tents into the open. 
At one side stood large boxes of medicines, 
beds, mattresses, portable folding tables and 
chairs, and a hundred other varieties of hos- 
pital necessaries, all packed and ready for 
transport. 

By 9 a.m. the motor lorries commenced to 
arrive. How the boys worked that morn- 
ing! The pile of forty tons of goods which 
[46] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

represented our home, and soon would be the 
home of many others, sick and wounded, 
melted away before their united effort. 

We had come to Salisbury Plain in the 
rain; it was but fitting that we should leave 
in a similar downpour. We did! 

The soldier is a strange creature; a mi- 
gratory animal whose chief delight in life is 
moving. Put him in one place for months, 
be it ever so cheery and comfortable — he frets 
like a restless steed; but give him the rein, 
permit him to go, he cares not whither — he 
is happy. It may be from sunshine to shad- 
ow; it may be from chateau to trench; it may 
be from heaven to hell — ^he cares not if he but 
moves, and, moving, he will whistle or sing his 
delight. 

The road was lined with envious Tommies 
who came to see us start. 

"Yer colonel muster had some pull with 
Kitch'ner t' git ye away so soon," said one 
of the envious to Tim, the colonel's batman. 

Tim was quite the most unique of all our 
motely tribe. He was born in Ireland, edu- 
cated (or rather remained uneducated) in 
the Southern States, and for the past ten 
[47] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

years had lived in Canada. He was a faith- 
ful servant, true to his master and to all his 
friends. Like many another "original," he 
was permitted to take liberties which shocked 
all sense of military discipline, as well as 
every other sense; but he amused us and was 
forgiven. He was a prize fighter, too, of 
no mean ability, and carried the scars of 
many a hard-fought battle. No other being 
in the world used a dialect like Tim's. It 
was a language all his own, and negroid in 
character. 

"Pull wit' Kitch'ner!" he replied disdain- 
fully. "Wit George hisself, ye means. D'ye 
s'pose my kernel hobnobs wit' anyt'ing lessen 
royalty? De king sent fer him, an' he goed 
to Lunnon a' purpose." 

" 'Wot is yer Majesty's command?' sez de 
kernel. 

" 'Kernel,' sez he, 'when I seed yer men 
on p'rade las' Sunday, I turned to Lord 
Kitch'ner an' sez: "Kitch'ner, it ain't right 
t' keep men as good as dat in England; dere 
place is at de front!" ' " 

"You was sure needed there," Tim's vis-a-vis 
[ 48 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

interjected sarcastically; "good thick-headed 
fellers t' stop a bullet." 

Tim ignored the remark, and continued: 

"So he sez, 'Kernel, yer unit 'ull be de first 
t' leave f er France, an' good luck t' ye !' Wit 
dat de kernel corned back, an' now we're goin' 
to see de Pea- jammers." 

"Wot's them?" the other growlingly in- 
quired. 

"Don't ye know wot Pea- jammers is yet? 
Ye muster bin eddicated in night school. Pea- 
jammers is Frenchmen." 

By what process of exclusion Tim had ar- 
rived at this strange decision with reference 
to the French, none but himself knew; and 
he never by any chance alluded to them 
otherwise. 

"All in, men!" shouted the sergeant-major, 
and each man scrambled to his allotted place. 

To look at the rough exterior of our men 
one would not suppose that music lurked 
within their breasts — nothing more unlikely 
seemed probable; and yet, listen to the vi- 
brant harmony of their chorus as they sit upon 
their bags and boxes! It rolls in melodious 
waves over the camp, and crowds of soldiers 
[49] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

come running toward the road to listen. Oh, 
you may be sure they had their good points, 
those lads of ours — so many good points, 
too! 

The lorries started, and the boys lifted 
their voices to the strains of "Good-bye, 
Dolly, I Must Leave You." The little crowd 
which lined the road on either side raised 
their caps and gave three cheers in kindly 
token of farewell. As we looked back upon 
those stalwart soldier-boys, many a wistful 
glance was cast toward us, and many a long- 
ing eye followed the trail of our caravan. 

Night had fallen before our train puffed 
noisily into the railway sheds at Southamp- 
ton. How hungry we were! And the sight 
of the crowded buffet and its odour of steam- 
ing coff'ee gave us a thrill of expectant de- 
light. 

There are times in life when it takes so 
little to please or interest one. In the ornate 
grandeur of a metropolitan hotel such coffee 
and cake as we received that night would 
have called forth a clamour of protest; but 
in the rough interior of a dockyard shed no 
palatial surroundings mar the simple pleas- 
[50] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ures of the soul. What delicious cheese our 
quartermaster produced out of a mud-covered 
box, and how splendidly crisp the hard-tack, 
as we crunched it with hungry teeth! Seated 
on our bags and boxes, we feasted as none 
but hungry soldiers can, and the murky cof- 
fee turned into nectar as it touched our lips. 
Through the big doorway, too, the eye 
could feast on the towering side of the ship 
which was so soon to take us to our great 
adventure, as she lay snuggled against the 
quay. But as we rested there, another train 
pulled into the sheds and stopped. The doors 
were opened from within, and we were sur- 
prised to see hundreds of great horses step 
quietly and solemnly out upon the platform. 
There was a marvellous dignity about those 
tall, magnificent animals, with their arched 
necks and glossy coats. They drew up upon 
the platform in long rows like soldiers. There 
was no neighing, no kicking or baulkiness. 
They seemed to be impressed with the seri- 
ousness of the mission upon which they were 
sent. A little later, as they passed up the 
ship's gangway, and were marched aboard, 
[51] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

no regiment ever stepped upon the deck with 
finer show of discipline. 

Our saddle horses were already aboard; 
but what had become of Barker and the 
team? 

"Where's Barker?" the colonel suddenly 
demanded. No one present knew; but, as 
if in answer to his question, little Huxford 
came running down the platform. By the 
look of distress upon his face we knew some- 
thing serious had happened. 

"What is it, Huxford?" cried the colonel, 
as Huxford approached. 

"Barker's been arrested, sir, by the mili- 
tary police, and the team are in the deten- 
tion camp, four miles from here," he gasped. 

"Drunk, I suppose?" the colonel queried 
angrily. 

"Well, sir, he had had a drink or two, but 
not till after we got to town," Huxford an- 
swered reluctantly. 

"I might have guessed as much," said the 
colonel with some bitterness. "It's useless to 
depend upon a man who drinks. Here, 
Fraser," he called to Captain Fraser, "take 
a taxi and make the camp as quickly as pos- 
[52] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

sible. The boat sails in two hours. Don't 
fail to bring both Barker and the horses — 
although, Lord knows, Barker would be no 
great loss." 

It was characteristic of the colonel that no 
matter what scrapes we got into, no matter 
what trouble or humiliation we caused him, 
he never forsook us. More than once in the 
days that were to follow he saved some reck- 
less youth from being taken out at early 
dawn and shot; not because he did not feel 
that the punishment was deserved but be- 
cause his big, kindly heart enwrapped every 
one of his wayward soldier-boys with a fath- 
er's love. 

An English regiment was embarking upon 
the same ship with us. The donkey engine was 
busy again hauling their accoutrement and 
ours aboard. Great cases swung aloft in 
monotonous yet wonderful array. Sometimes 
a wagon was hoisted into the air; again a 
motor truck was lifted with apparent ease, 
swayed to and fro for a moment high above 
our heads, and then descended to the depths 
below. By midnight the ship was loaded, 
[53] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

but Barker and the team with Huxford and 
Captain Fraser had not returned. 

The transport officer addressed the senior 
major. 

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I can't hold the 
ship more than ten minutes longer. If your 
men don't arrive by that time they'll have 
to remain behind." 

The colonel had gone to meet the train 
on which the nursing sisters were to arrive. 
They were coming from London to join us, 
and were to cross upon the same boat. But 
the colonel returned alone. 

He was a tall, well-built, handsome man, 
and his winning smile was most contagious. 
It took a great deal to ruffle his genial good 
nature, and his blue-grey eyes were seldom 
darkened by a frown, but this was a night 
of unusual worry. 

He called out to Captain Bumham: 

"Have your luggage brought ashore. Burn- 
ham. You and I will remain behind to 
chaperon the nurses. They can't possibly 
make the boat." 

"What's the trouble, sir?" Burnham in- 
[54] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

quired, as he descended upon the quay. "Was 
their train late?" 

The colonel laughed a trifle impatiently. 

"No; the train was quite on time, but I 
have been having a new experience. I under- 
estimated the baggage of thirty-five women, 
that's all. It's astounding! I don't know 
how many trunks each nurse has, but the 
tout ensemble makes Barnum's circus train 
look foolish. I ventured to remark that we 
were only going to the war, not touring 
Europe, but this precipitated such a shower 
of reproach upon my innocent head that I 
made no further protest. I was never able 
to oust one woman in an argument. Imagine, 
then, where I stood with thirty-five! The 
trunks, every one of them, will cross with 
us to-morrow, and if they wish to bring 
Peter Robinson's whole shop, you won't hear 
a murmur from me!" 

At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs 
coming at the gallop broke upon our ears; 
and Captain Fraser, himself driving the team, 
with Barker and Huxford clinging to the 
seat for support, dashed upon the quay. As 
[55] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the horses pulled up, Barker descended and 
stood sheepishly awaiting the inevitable. 

"Barker, I'm ashamed of you," the colonel 
said in a tone of stern reproach. "You have 
been the first to bring disgrace upon our unit, 
and I hope you will be the last. In future 
Huxford will have charge of the team. I 
shall have something further to say when we 
reach France. Get aboard!" 

Barker dropped his eyes during this speech. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I — I didn't mean to dis- 
grace you, sir!" With these words he saluted 
and shuffled humbly and contritely aboard. 

It was many a long day before Barker 
tasted liquor again. The colonel's words 
burned with a dull glow in his heart, and 
kindled a spark of manhood there. 

Crossing the Channel in those days was 
not as comparatively safe as it is to-day. 
Under the water, always prowling about, 
lurked the German submarines. Every day 
reports of their dastardly deeds came to hand. 
Being torpedoed was not the sort of end 
which one might wish. There was no honour 
or glory in such a death, and besides, the 
water looked dreary and cold. In spite of 
[56] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

oneself the thought of being blown suddenly 
into the air recurred occasionally to mind. It 
was not that we had any real fear, for any 
form of death was part of the game of 
hazard on which we had embarked. But 
we stood for some time upon the deck and 
peered inquisitively into the darkness as we 
steamed rapidly out into the Channel. 

What was the dull glow at some distance 
ahead? Perhaps a ship — it was impossible 
to say. We looked astern, and there in the 
darkness we could just discern a ghostly 
shape which followed in our wake, and, hour 
by hour, ahead or behind, these two mys- 
terious phantoms followed or led our every 
turn. 

Dawn was breaking; the hazy shapes be- 
came more real. Slowly the daylight pierced 
the mist, and there revealed to our aston- 
ished gaze, were two sturdy little torpedo 
boat destroyers. It was a part of that mar- 
vellous British navy which never sleeps by 
night or day. 

What a sense of security those two de- 
stroyers gave us! The mist closed round 
us again, and hid them from our view, but 
[57] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ever and anbn the roar of our siren broke 
the silence and presently, close by, a sharp an- 
swering blast told us that our guardians were 
near. By and by the fog closed round about 
us so densely that further progress was un- 
safe, and so the engines were stopped, and 
for another day and night we remained at 
sea. 



[68] 



CHAPTER IV 

During the day and a half that we stood 
out in the Channel fog, wondering whether 
we should ever reach land, or whether a 
stray German submarine would send us to 
a higher sphere, we had plenty of time to 
look about the ship. She was an India liner 
which had been pressed into service as a 
troop ship; and the Hindu stewards looked 
after our many wants as only the Oriental 
can. 

What a far-reaching cosmopolitanism ema- 
nates from that little land of Britain! Here 
were English officers giving orders to the 
Hindus in their own mysterious tongue; and 
the deference with which these men obeyed 
helped us to realise Britain's greatness. To 
conquer a country, tame it, civilise it — some- 
times by force — and still retain the love and 
respect of its inhabitants, is a power given to 
but few peoples; yet Britons possess it to the 
full. 

[59] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

On Sunday morning — a bright warm day 
in early November — our ship steamed slowly 
into the port of Le Havre. We lingered a 
few minutes near a high stone quay. Close 
beside us was a Belgian hospital ship, its 
white and green paint and big red crosses 
contrasting strangely with our own dull grey. 
We could see the nurses and medical officers 
on board ministering to their patients with ten- 
der care and solicitude. 

We were steaming slowly through a nar- 
row channel between block after block of 
wharves, where ships unnumbered piled their 
ocean freight. Finally we emerged into a 
great basin filled with craft, both large and 
small, some of which were dismantled. Across 
the bay a splendid ocean liner reared her four 
smokeless funnels toward the sky; she was 
one of that great fleet of passenger ships, so 
recently the pride of France, now thrust aside 
by the stern demands of ruthless war. 

At length we docked, and as we stood lean- 
ing over the rail, some little children came 
running down the quay to greet us. 

"Messieurs! Messieurs! Bon jour!" they 
[60] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

cried; and then for the first time we realised 
that we were in a foreign land. 

France, la belle France! How often have 
we dreamed of you in better days! Bright, 
vivacious France, whose wit and laughter 
sparkled like champagne, whose joy was ever 
rampant! How soon your smiles and tears 
were to intermingle with our own! 

But the soldiers on board had not yet 
learned to speak in French, and they re- 
sponded in our own dull tongue: "Good-day, 
little girls. Hello, little boys," and they 
dropped silver coins and pennies on the quay. 

The French children had already learned 
a word or two of English, and they had also 
discovered that the Tommy understood two 
very useful French words. Not to be out- 
done in courtesy, they flung them up to us 
in piping chorus: "Good-night, cigarette, 
souvenir!" 

How many thousand times we have since 
heard this same greeting! It has become the 
children's formula, and as a gracious conces- 
sion to our ignorance of French has met its 
just reward — in pennies. 

Dusk fell before we had completed the un- 
[61] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

loading of our equipment and had it all 
stowed away in the hangar. Then we formed 
up and, with a French boy-scout as guide, 
started our march toward camp. 

The senior major, on his splendid black 
horse, led the van; the men, contrary to mili- 
tary custom, carrying a Union Jack, followed, 
and Captain Reggy and I, mounted, brought 
up the rear. 

The first half-mile of our march was un- 
eventful, as there were few people in the 
streets of the ha^se ville; but as we passed 
farther up into the city the sidewalks be- 
came crowded with spectators. At first the 
French mistook us for English soldiers on 
the march, the sight of whom, while an al- 
most hourly occurrence, was still a matter of 
keen interest. But as the crowd, becoming 
larger and larger, and pushing one another 
off the sidewalks into the road, caught a 
glimpse of our shoulder badges marked 
"Canada," the word was passed from mouth 
to mouth with lightning-like rapidity, and 
the excitement became intense. 

They broke forth into the wildest cheer- 
ing and shouted again and again, ^"^Les Ca- 

[62] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

nadiens! Vive le Canada!" until the clam- 
our was deafening. Men, women and chil- 
dren surrounded us in thousands, laughing, 
singing and talking, shaking the soldiers by 
the hand, embracing and even kissing them 
in the excess of their welcome. 

That the boys weren't always kissed on 
account of their irresistible beauty may be 
gathered from this little conversation which 
took place en passant: 

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed one of the girls 
to her nearest neighbour, "why did you kiss 
that ugly face?" 

"Because," was the reply, "he looked so 
lonely — he seemed to need it most." 

They marched up the street with us, arm 
in arm, all who could get near enough, and 
threw a thousand questions at us in one un- 
intelligible clatter of French. It was a wel- 
come to stir the blood of the coldest, and from 
that moment we took France to our hearts, 
as she had taken us, and held her fast. 

What did the landing of a mere handful 
of Canadians mean to France ? There weren't 
enough of us to be of much importance, com- 
pared with the thousands of other British 
[63] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

troops which landed daily. But the French, 
with their keen sense of appreciation, recog- 
nised at once that the advent of this little 
Canadian band had a broad significance; it 
meant that in her great struggle for the cause 
of liberty and humanity France was to be 
supported not only by Britain but by the* far- 
flung elements of the Empire. It meant en- 
couragement ; it meant success I 

And as they shouted "Vive le Canada/' 
we echoed with a will, "Vive la, France/' 
We sang, too, "God Save the King," and 
"La Marseillaise/' A few who knew Eng- 
lish joined in the first, but "La Marseillaise/' 
starting by courtesy with us, swelled in a 
moment into a mighty anthem which swept 
the city like a storm. Later, when we fol- 
lowed with "The Maple Leaf," a respectful 
silence fell upon the throng. With quick 
intuition they knew it was a song of home, 
with which they sympatliised, but which they 
could not understand. And as the melody 
concluded we could hear them whispering one 
to another: "Quelle est cette chanson?" And 
we answered in our broken French, "It is a 
song of our native land, far, far from here." 
[64] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

It was my good fortune during this strange 
march to ride upon the side close to the 
curb, while Reggy, in comparative obscurity, 
rode opposite. Frequently, too, it was my 
privilege to return the greetings of the dainty 
French girls who lined the walk and waved 
their handkerchiefs high above the heads of 
the crowd in the road. 

At last Reggy, trotting along in the shadow, 
could contain himself no longer. He burst 
out: 

"Hang it all, major! Just my bally 
luck again; you're always closer to the girls 
than I." 

"But not closer to their hearts, Reggy 
dear," I interjected soothingly. 

"Small consolation, that, in the present situ- 
ation," Reggy was grumbling, when he was 
suddenly interrupted by a pretty black-eyed 
girl who, running alongside his horse, caught 
him by the hand and forthwith begged a kiss. 
I believe — or, rather, I hope — Reggy blushed. 
I should always like to think that at that 
precise moment Reggy's sense of modesty 
came to his rescue. If it did, however, it 
vanished again with alarming rapidity, 
[65] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Here's an embarrassing situation^" he 
cried dolefully. 

"Very trying, indeed, to have a pretty girl 
demand a kiss," I laughed. 

"Confound it!" he returned. "That's not 
the trouble; but I'm not horseman enough to 
lean over and get it." 

There, you see, Reggy in one fell moment 
had destroyed all my illusions about him. 
Here was I worrying over his distress and 
presumed embarrassment, while he, hopeless 
young scamp that he was, showed actual re- 
gret because he couldn't fall from grace. 

"I would suggest that you dismount," I 
answered, in a spirit of sarcasm. 

For a moment I believe this insane thought 
obsessed him, and then his latent sense of 
military discipline and dignity saved him. 
He turned regretfully to the young lady, and 
pressing her hand warmly — very warmly, I 
thought — broke forth in schoolboy French: 

"Merely cherie! Mille fois, mille fois. An- 
other time will have to do." 

''Est-ce-que vous parlez Franpais, mon- 
sieur?'' she demanded sweetly. 

"Rather rough on your French, Reggy," 
[66] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

I teased, asking you, after that brilliant sortie, 
if you really speak the language." 

Reggy appeared hurt. 

"Look at you," he cried, "riding along like 
a bloated monarch, scooping in the obeisance 
of the whole kingdom, and because I com- 
mand the attention — and, I trust, respect — of 
only one of your subjects, you're jealous. 
Out upon you — for shame!" 

All good things come to an end at last. 
For half an hour we had been princes or 
kings, drinking in the nectar of adulation in 
mighty gulps. It turned our heads and made 
us dizzy, and this feeling of elation lasted long 
after we had left the crowd behind, and the 
faint cry of Vive les Canadiens followed us 
into the darker streets. We toiled slowly 
over the cobble stones, up the steep hill, and 
finally into camp. 

The camp commandant came to meet us a 
few minutes after we arrived. He was a fine- 
looking specimen of British officer — tall, ath- 
letic, with iron-grey hair and keen blue eyes. 
He smiled as he greeted us. 

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, as 
[67] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the senior major approached and saluted. 
"Where have you all come from?" 

"Originally from Canada, sir," the major 
replied, "but recently from Salisbury Plains." 

"How interesting," he cried in a tone of 
delighted surprise. "I had no idea the Ca- 
nadians were coming to France so soon." 

"Weren't you expecting us, sir?" the major 
ventured. 

The commandant laughed good-humouredly. 
We seemed to amuse him. 

"Well, not exactly," he replied; "but you 
are quite welcome. Take those three rows of 
tents, draw your rations and make yourselves 
at home. One of these days orders will come 
along for you." 

One of these days! Well, well! Was he 
actually addressing us in that careless and 
flippant manner, we who had just taken 
France by storm? Alas! we were not so 
important after all. For a full hour we had 
looked upon ourselves as the whole war, and 
the rest of the British army as a mere back- 
ground to our glory. And now we were told 
that "one of these days!" It was really too 
bad. But still, he was kindly and courteous, 
[68] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and behind those smiling eyes lurked a great 
sympathy, I am sure, for our little band. 

We looked about us and then we under- 
stood. There were miles of tents. Regiments 
of soldiers were marching in and regiments 
were marching out — the Highland "kilties" 
with their sporrans swaying to and fro in stir- 
ring unison. We heaved a sigh. It was all 
too true. We were only one small cog in 
the great machine! 

But the senior major was elated with a 
strange and inexplicable emotion. After the 
commandant had bidden us good-night, he 
paced back and forth, with his hands behind 
his back and his head in the air. He raised 
his feet high as he walked, and clicked his 
spurs with the firmness of his tread. Some- 
thing was effervescing in his mind, and soon 
would blow his mental cork out. What was 
it? He twirled his moustaches from time 
to time and smiled a crafty smile. At last 
it popped: 

"Gentlemen," he said, "that's one thing 
which no one can ever take from me!" 

"What?" we cried breathlessly. 
[69] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"That I was the first officer who ever led a 
Canadian unit into France!" 

Oh, the supreme egotism and self-love of 
old bachelorhood! We turned away without 
a word, in time to hear little Huxford's piping 
voice in ungrammatical query. 

"Did ye had a good time to-night, Bill?" 

And Bill's reply echoed the sentiments of 
all our hearts. 

"Did I?" he cried exultantly. "Some 
class!" 



[70] 



CHAPTER V 

How it stormed that night! Thunder, 
lightning, rain and wind combined in one up- 
roarious elemental war. It seemed as if no 
tent on earth could stand the strain. Once 
I peeped outside, and in the flashes saw 
vistas of tents rolling like great white-crested 
waves on an operatic sea. From time to time 
the cracking of poles and the dull swish of 
canvas, blending with the smothered oaths of 
men beneath, told us that some tent had 
fallen. 

Reggy slept as peacefully as a new-born 
babe. Tucked into his canvas sleeping-bag 
and with a woollen toque pulled well down 
over his ears, he was oblivious to the storm, 
and in the faint glimmer of our candle-lantern 
looked like an Eskimo at rest. 

Peg after peg jerked out of the ground, 

and our tent commenced to rock to and fro 

in a drunken frenzy. Would the guard never 

come to tighten the guys? They seemed to 

[7l'] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

have forgotten us. Warmly ensconced in 
my blankets and half asleep in spite of the 
noise, I lay and from time to time idly won- 
dered how much longer the tent would stand. 

Sometimes I dozed and dreamed of get- 
ting up to fix it, and saw myself crawling 
about in wet pyjamas in the wind and rain. 
The thought awoke me; the tent was flapping 
still. Reggy, as the junior, was in duty 
bound to right it; but if the storm couldn't 
wake him, what could mere man do? I 
dozed again and awoke just in time to see 
the canvas give one last wild gyration. Then 
it crashed down upon us. 

"Hi! What the d 1 are you doing 

now?" 

It was the sleep-saturated voice of Reggy 
in angry, smothered tones beneath the wreck. 
For answer to his question, a gust of wind 
lifted the canvas from his face, and a spurt 
of rain, with the force of a garden hose, struck 
him. 

"O Lord!" he howled. "The bally tent's 
blown down!" Reggy's perspicacity, while 
sluggish, was accurate. 

"Get up, you lazy blighter, and lend a 
[72] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

hand!" I shouted between blasts of wind and 
rain which soaked me through and through. 

"Ugh! You wouldn't ask a chap to get 
up in a storm like this," he cried appeal- 
ingly. 

I didn't. I merely took the lower end of 
his sleeping-bag and emptied it, as one would 
a sack of potatoes, onto the floor. Reggy 
emerged* like a rumpled blue-bird. 

"Rotten trick, I call that," he grumbled, 
as he scrambled to his feet. 

Luckily by this time the guard arrived to 
help us, and after a long tussle with the ropes, 
the tent was pitched once more, and we 
crawled back to bed. 

The morning sun rose clear and bright 
and smiled as if it had no memories of the 
night before. Wherever one might look 
tents lay in heaps upon the ground, but not 
a breath of wind stirred the fresh cool air. 
Fainter and more faint from the distance 
came the weird strain of the bagpipes — a 
Highland regiment was passing down the 
hill, starting on that long journey whence 
all might not return. 

Our men had breakfasted and were alreac^ 
[73] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

at work raising the fallen tents. The ad- 
jutant emerged from his abode wearing a 
weary smile — he hadn't slept much. 

'"What of the night?'" he cried. "The 
storm has given me an appetite. Where's 
breakfast? I'm as hungry as an R.M.C. 
cadet." 

Where indeed was breakfast? As yet we 
had no "mess"; our goods were still un- 
packed. 

"There's a soldiers' buffet managed by 
ladies in the cottage yonder," said Fraser, 
pointing to a brick house on the crest of 
the hill. Trust Fraser to know where grub 
abounds! "Perhaps I can persuade the lit- 
tle lady of the place . . ." 

"You'll need help," Reggy interpolated 
hastily. "Some one with persuasive powers. 
I'll go along." 

Reggy's eagerness to go suggested other 
distractions than foraging. We said we would 
accompany him — lest he forget. We entered 
a long room at the rear of the house, which 
had been a carpenter's shop before the war. 
It was furnished with two long tables, benches, 
and a large number of kitchen chairs. The 
[74] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

carpenter's tools hung unused upon the wall. 
At the farther end of the room several young 
women and one of maturer years were rapidly 
cutting up bread and meat for sandwiches, 
buttering appetising French rolls and plac- 
ing them all in large baskets. It looked 
enough to feed a multitude. 

We approached the table. One young 
woman looked up, apparently more from 
courtesy than with any special interest in 
our arrival, and said: "Good morning!" 

It was true then; they were English- 
women. They were as cool — and refreshing 
— as the air outside. Reggy saluted gravely. 

"May we have something to eat, please?" 
he inquired hesitatingly. 

The young woman looked up again, with 
a surprised smile. "But you are not Tom- 
mies," she replied. 

"No; merely officers, and very hungry ones 
at that." 

She looked a trifle perplexed. "We don't 
serve officers here," she asserted. "You see, 
this buffet is meant for Tommies only." 

Bless their hearts! Here at least was one 
place where the officer was discounted, and 
[75] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Tommy was king. We had been feted and 
pampered to such an extent that we had lost 
sight of the true proportion of things. Here 
were women who reahsed that Tommy is quite 
as important as his officer, that he is a man 
and as such has rights. We honoured the 
young women who could thus devote them- 
selves to the men who really needed their 
help most. But this elevating thought did 
not appease our hunger in the least. We still 
wanted something to eat, and the dainty food 
before us failed to modify our internal crav- 
ings. 

"Couldn't we have just one bun?" Reggy 
coaxed. 

The young woman smilingly shook her 
head. "It's against our rules," she replied. 

Reggy looked distressed. We imitated his 
look with such success that another young 
woman, who seemed to be the one in au- 
thority, came forward and volunteered: 

"If you will step into the house, gentle- 
men, I shall see what the concierge can do 
for you there." 

That we didn't fall upon her neck in sheer 
thankfulness speaks well for our self-control. 
[76] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We kept sufficient restraint upon ourselves, 
however, to merely murmur our gratitude in 
becoming words. We explained that we had 
just arrived, and that our mess was not yet 
open. 

"Well, well," she laughed. "Of course, we 
can't let you starve, but you really mustn't 
eat in here." 

If the angels in heaven look anything like 
that sweet young woman as she appeared to 
us at that moment — well, it's a great incentive 
to lead a good life, that's all. 

We were ushered into a quaint French 
dining-room, furnished with hand-carved ma- 
hogany. That a carpenter should have such 
exquisite taste surprised us. We were yet 
to learn that the artistic sense is a keynote 
of French character. The owner of the cot- 
tage was away at the war; he was one of 
the poilus who were then, and are still, up- 
holding the martial traditions of a noble fight- 
ing race. His wife spread a dainty table 
for us, and we breakfasted for the first time 
in France. 

Our menu consisted of small mackerel, rolls 
and coffee! How prosaic it sounds in Eng- 
[77] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

lish! We shall always remember that petit 
dejeuner in French : Petits maquerauoc, petits 
pains et cafe-au-lait. What music there is in 
such a language! The food itself loses its 
identity and is transformed into the sustenance 
of the gods ! 

Days passed by, but there was no word 
from our colonel, and no orders came for us 
to move. Had they all forgotten us? Had 
we by mischance taken the wrong boat and 
landed in the wrong part of France? What 
had become of our colonel and the rest of 
our unit? These thoughts perplexed and wor- 
ried us. But one day, as we were lunching, 
a messenger suddenly appeared at the tent 
door and asked for the senior major. 

"Telegram for you, sir," he said. 

The major slowly unfolded it, read it as 
slowly, refolded it and placed it in his pocket 
without a word. Could it be from the colonel? 
If so, where was he? The major continued 
his meal. At last Fraser could bear the sus- 
pense no longer. 

"Was that a message from the colonel?" 
he inquired anxiously. 

"It was," the major replied. 
[78] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

One might have heard the proverbial pin 
drop — the strain was so intense. Would he 
never go on? Were we to hear nothing 
further ? 

Eraser ventured again: "What does he 
say?" 

The senior major got up and left the tent 
without a word. 

Even after all these months it pains me 
to record the bitter disappointment of that 
moment. All men have their peculiarities — 
Some are afflicted more than others. We may 
forgive, but we cannot always forget. And 
yet he had his good points, too; he wasn't 
quite all bad. Perhaps Eraser's question was 
injudicious; perhaps he hadn't been deferen- 
tial enough to his senior officer. At any rate 
it was two days later when we first heard 
the news. The adjutant, who had been taken 
into the major's confidence, whispered the 
message to us: 

"The colonel is at Boulogne, and orders 
will be sent us in a few days to join him. I 
have been told not to tell you, but I must 
relieve your anxiety. Keep it secret!" 

How we loved him for his thoughtf ulness ! 
[79] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The tension was broken. We were once more 
happy and content. 

Three days later the order came to move. 
We were to entrain at midnight, and all day 
long we were busy packing. By nine every- 
thing was ready. The motor lorries were 
loaded, and we started our march toward the 
train. It was a pitch-black night and rain 
swept the streets in chilling torrents. 

One of the horses of our team had a chafed 
back and could not be harnessed, so that my 
horse was selected to take his place. The 
wagon was piled high with the kit-bags of 
the men, and from this elevation one of the 
orderlies held the halter of the sick horse, 
which followed behind. We started down 
the steep hill from the camp, horses and men 
alike slipping upon the wet and greasy cobble- 
stones. 

Suddenly a slight explosion startled the 
led horse. He reared upon his hind legs, 
jerked the halter from the hand of the or- 
derly and bolted down the hill into the dark- 
ness. Who would dare follow him? To ride 
down that incline at any rate faster than a 
walk was sheer recklessness. Surely no horse 
[80] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

or man who attempted to do so would return 
alive. But Huxford, putting spurs to his horse, 
plunged down the hill at breakneck speed, 
a shower of sparks flying out on either side 
as the horse's steel shoes struck the stones. 

"Good God!" cried Barker; "he'll never 
come back — he's a dead man!" 

"Why didn't he let the horse go?" cried the 
senior major anxiously. "Now we've lost two 
horses and a man. He doesn't know the city 
or where we are going, and even if he gets 
through alive, he'll never find us again." 

"How could he expect to overtake a run- 
away horse in a strange city on a night like 
this? It's madness!" exclaimed the adjutant. 

"He was a fine lad," said the quartermaster 
sadly, as though Huxford were already dead. 
"Seems such a pity to lose him. I didn't 
think he had the courage to do it." 

But war shatters preconceived ideas. No 
one can tell which men are brave until the 
crisis comes. Those who seem strongest fail; 
those who seem weakest succeed. 

A gloom had been cast over us all. We 
despaired of seeing Huxford again — except 
perhaps to find his mangled body somewhere 
[81] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

at the foot of that long hill. When we reached 
the bottom he wasn't there, and we went on 
despondently for a mile or more, knowing the 
hopelessness of trying to find him; when sud- 
denly, as we turned a corner, he appeared, still 
on horseback and leading the runaway. A 
cheer from the boys greeted him. 

"Well done, Huxford!" cried the senior 
major. "We never expected to see you 
again!" 

"I couldn't let him go, sir, 'cause th' colonel 
giv' th' horses into my charge, an' he had to be 
caught." 

May we all fulfil our duty as faithfully as 
this lad! 

The queer little French train, with its cars 
marked eight chevauw — forty hommes (8 
horses — 40 men) was waiting at the station 
when we arrived. The transport officer had 
told the senior major not to leave until he had 
received his papers, but to get the men and 
horses aboard. 

Shortly before midnight all were entrained. 
The equipment and horses were loaded, but 
there was no sign of either engine or conduc- 
tor. We unrolled our sleeping-bags, placed 
[82] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

them upon the seats in the compartment coach 
and fell asleep. At four a.m. we were awak- 
ened by an angry discussion taking place on 
the train platform. One voice was French, evi- 
dently that of the train conductor; the other 
was unmistakably that of the senior major. 
He was talking very loudly : 

"I tell you, you can't move this train one 
inch until I get my papers." 

The reply was in French: 

"Comprend pas, monsieur!'' Evidently he 
was about to signal the engineer to start. 

"Stop! I command you to stop!" shouted 
the major again. 

The Frenchman understood the action, if he 
failed to understand the words. ''II faut paj'tir 
tout de suite, monsieur/' he replied with re- 
spectful firmness, and then, placing the bugle 
to his lips, he blew a signal to the engineer and 
the train started. 

The major sprang from the platform just 
in time to catch his coach. He had not received 
the papers, and had had an unintelligible 
wordy duel in which he had been vanquished. 
He was boiling with rage. 
[83] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"If I had my way," he stormed, "there would 
be only one language in the world!" 

We were off once more. We had but a faint 
idea of where we were going, but we were on 
our way. 



[84] 



CHAPTER VI 

When we awoke the sun was high in the 
heavens, and through the train windows we 
could see the steep banks of the Seine as we 
wound along that picturesque river toward 
Kouen. From time to time we passed small 
villages, the red tile of their roofs contrasting 
prettily with the snow-white of the walls. 
Some houses were decorated with bright blue 
or green, and as they swept by the window in 
kaleidoscopic array, the scene was one of mani- 
fold variety. 

The French love a dash of colour ; it is mani- 
fest everywhere — in their clothes, their houses 
and their military uniforms. In the larger 
cities where civilisation is over-developed, and 
humanity is more effete, the bright colours have 
given place to pale and delicate shades — an in- 
dication of that transformation of life which 
we call art. But in these little country villages, 
a thousand years or more behind the times, 
Dame Nature still holds sway, and the primary 
[85] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

colours riot in their rugged strength. Cen- 
turies from now these rural hamlets, grown to 
greater size, losing their primitive audacity, 
will fade as well ; and looking back will marvel 
at the boldness of their youth. 

Every quarter-mile along the track a lone 
sentinel, in sky-blue coat and scarlet cap, 
guarded our path. With fixed haionette he 
stood hour by hour, watchful and keen. He 
had a little thatched sentry-box into which he 
might retire when it rained, and through the 
small round windows watch on either side. 

As we pulled into the railway station at 
Rouen, we could see resourceful "Tommy" 
cooking his breakfast on a little charcoal stove. 
"Tommy" is always at home, no matter where 
we find him — whether it be on the battlefields 
of France or Belgium, or on the rock-bound 
shores of Gallipoli. 

Our men descended from their coaches, 
lugged out their bags of bread, their cheese and 
jam and "bully-beef." The sergeant-cook 
meted out each share, and they soon were at 
their morning meal. 

A few hours later Reggy and I were seated 
at luncheon in the Hotel de la Poste. The 
[86] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

salle a manger was filled with English, 
French and Belgian officers, and their wives or 
friends, and to the casual observer the place 
was as gay as in times of peace. But in spite 
of the bright colours of the uniforms, in spite 
of the "chic" Parisian hats and pretty faces of 
the ladies, one felt over all an atmosphere sub- 
dued and serious. 

It is true wine sparkled upon almost every 
table, but in France this doesn't necessarily 
mean gaiety. Every Frenchman drinks wine, 
but it is very rare indeed to see one drunk. 
Wine, like water at home, is used as a beverage 
— ^not as an intoxicant. 

Imbued with the spirit of the time and place, 
Reggy and I called for a bottle of old Cham- 
hertin, and under its mellowing influence, 
care and the war were soon forgotten. 

Of course we visited the Cathedral, and 
listened to the old sexton pouring incompre- 
hensible data into our stupid ears for half an 
hour while we examined the rare stained win- 
dows and the carved oak door. When we re- 
turned to the train, the senior major and the 
transport officer were deep in conversation; 
[87] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"But where are your papers?" the R. T. O. 
was asking. 

"We haven't any," the major replied. 
"That French conductor wouldn't hold the 
train until they arrived. Can't we go on with- 
out them?" 

"Where are you going?" 

"We presume to Boulogne — the re^ of the 
unit is there, but we have no orders. When 
does the train leave, please?" 

"There'll be one at 3 p.m., and if you wish to 
take that, get your men aboard." 

We might have been touring France — he 
was so nonchalant, and there was such an ab- 
sence of "red-tape," Imagine in these hyper- 
martial days being told to "take the 3 p.m. 
train if we wished!" Nowadays it is not a 
matter of volition; units go where and when 
they are commanded, and a definite system has 
replaced haphazard. But the old way had its 
good points — it still let one believe he was in 
part his own master. 

Having a sense of duty and, moreover, being 

anxious to reach our destination — wherever 

that might be — we entrained once more and 

travelled all the balance of that day and night. 

[88] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Promptly at 3 p.m. Reggy fell asleep, and 
didn't wake once, not even to eat, until the fol- 
lowing morning at six o'clock, when with a 
crash he was thrown off his couch to the floor of 
the train. Thus rudely startled, but not quite 
wide awake, he ejaculated: 

"Torpedoed, by Gad!" 

We didn't take time to wake Keggy and ex- 
plain the situation, but sprang to our feet and 
threw open the door of the train. What had 
happened? We were at Boulogne; our train 
had collided with another in the railway yards, 
but fortunately only one coach was crushed and 
no one hurt. We descended to the tracks and 
found other coaches on other trains in a similar 
condition. 

It was not difficult to understand the cause. 
The German spy leaves nothing undone, and 
was very careful to attend to such details as 
changing the railway switches to the wrong 
tracks. By now the spies have been almost 
completely weeded out ; but in those days they 
were very active. 

How thorough was their system was well 
illustrated when, later on, the Western Cavalry 
entered the trenches. A wooden horse rose in- 
[89] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

stantly above the German trench, bearing this 
legend: "Western Cavahy, come over and get 
your horses!" Our boys promptly shot the 
offending animal full of holes. It fell; but in 
a moment was raised again with bandages 
about its neck and leg! 

Despite the early morning hour, in a rail- 
way car a few yards from us, several young 
Englishwomen were busy serving hot cocoa 
and rolls to the hungry soldiers. The interior 
of the coach had been transformed into a kit- 
chen and travelling buffet. Every man in uni- 
form was welcome to enter and partake free 
of charge. We took advantage of this prac- 
tical hospitality and, much refreshed, returned 
to our own train. 

At another platform a regiment of Ghurkas 
were engaged loading their equipment. One 
came across to our engine and drawing some 
hot water from the boiler, washed his teeth and 
mouth with infinite care. 

The Ghurka is so like the Jap in appearance 
that when, later, we saw a body of these brave 
little chaps, with their turned-up Stetson hats, 
marching along the street, for a moment we 
actually mistook them for our Oriental allies. 
[90] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

It was only when we observed their short broad 
swords (kukris) that we realised it could be 
none other than these famous men from India. 

The colonel was at the station to meet us. 
How glad we were to see his genial face once 
more! 

"Your billets are all arranged," he said. 
"The officers will stay at the Louvre and the 
non-commissioned officers and men at the 
Jean d'arc theatre." 

The men were lined-up and, now that the 
unit was once more complete, formed quite an 
imposing sight. In those days medical units 
wore the red shoulder straps; the privilege of 
retaining these coloured straps has been 
granted only to members of the First Con- 
tingent. 

The men marched across JLe Pont Mar- 
guet, up the main thoroughfare, along the 
Rue Victor Hugo, crossing the market 
place, and in a narrow street not far from the 
market found the little theatre. It made a 
perfect billet, the main hall serving as a mess 
room, and the gallery as an excellent dormi- 
tory. 

The quartermaster, Reggy, and I were bil- 
[91] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

leted in one large room at the Louvre. Our 
window overlooked the basin and across 
the quay we could see the fish-wives un- 
loading the herring boats as they arrived in 
dozens. With their queer wooden shoes 
(sabots) they clack-clacked across the cobble- 
stones; their large baskets, overflowing with 
fish, strapped to their backs. Among all the 
varied odours of that odorous city, that of fish 
rises supreme. It saluted our nostrils when we 
marched in the streets, and was wafted in at 
our windows when the thoughtless breeze ven- 
tured our way. 

We could see too, the Channel boats arriv- 
ing at the dock, bringing battalion after bat- 
talion of troops. These rapidly entrained, and 
were whisked away in the shrill-whistling little 
French trains toward the battlefront. 

Sometimes convoys of London 'busses, now 
bereft of their advertisements and painted dull 
grey, filled with "Tommies" destined for the 
"big show," passed by the door and rolled away 
into the far beyond. 

The second morning of our stay at Boulogne 
Reggy awoke feeling that he really must have 
a bath. Why he should consider himself dif- 
[92] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ferent from all the other people in France, is 
a matter I am not prepared to discuss. A 
bath, in France, is a luxury, so to speak, and is 
indulged in at infrequent intervals — on fete 
days or some other such auspicious occasion. 

He rang the bell to summon the maid. In 
a few moments a tousled blonde head-of-hair, 
surmounted by a scrap of old lace, was thrust 
inside the door. 

''Monsieur?'' it enquired. 

Reggy prided himself upon his French — he 
had taken a high place in college in this par- 
ticular subject, but, as he remarked deprecat- 
ingly, his French seemed a bit too refined for 
the lower classes, who couldn't grasp its 
subtleties. 

''Je veucc un hain" he said. 

He was startled by the ease with which she 
understood. Could it be that he looked — but, 
no, he appeared as clean as the rest of us. At 
any rate, she responded at once in French: 

''Oui, monsieur. I'll bring it in to you." 
She withdrew her head and closed the door. 

"What the deuce," cried Reggy, as he sat up 
quickly in bed. "She'll bring in the bath! 
Does she take me for a canary?" 
[ 93 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"A canary doesn't make such a dickens of 
a row as you do," growled the quartermaster, 
"looking for a bath at six a.m." 

I tried to console him by reminding him that 
it was much better to have Reggy sweet and 
clean than in his present state, but he said it 
made small difference to him as he had a cold 
in his head anyway. Reggy, as an interested 
third party, began to look upon our contro- 
versy as somewhat personal, and was about to 
interfere when a rap at the door cut short 
further argument. 

Two chambermaids entered the room, carry- 
ing between them a tin pan about two feet in 
diameter and six inches in depth. It contained 
about a gallon of hot water. They placed it 
beside his bed. 

''Void, monsienirr cried she of the golden 
locks. 

Reggy leaned over the side of the bed and 
looked down at it. 

"Sacre sabre de hois;'' he exclaimed. "It 
isn't a drink I want — it's a bath — 'bain' — to 
wash — 'laver' ye know!" 

He made motions with his hands in excel- 
lent imitation of a gentleman performing his 
[94] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

morning ablutions. They nodded approv- 
ingly, and laughed : 

"Old, monsieur — it is the bath." 

"Well, I'll be d " But before Keggy 

could conclude the two maids had smilingly 
withdrawn. 

Reggy explored the room in his pyjamas 
and emptied our three water pitchers into the 
pan. 

"Now I'll at least be able to get my feet 
wet," he grumbled. "Where's the soap?" he 
exclaimed a moment later. "There isn't a bally 
cake of soap in the room." 

It was true. This is one of the petty annoy- 
ances of French hotels. Soap is never in the 
room and must be purchased as an extra, al- 
ways at the most inopportune moment. After 
half an hour's delay Reggy succeeded in buy- 
ing a cake from the porter, and his bath pro- 
ceeded without further mishap. He then tum- 
bled into bed again and fell asleep. 

The maids shortly returned to carry out the 
bath, but when they saw how Reggy had ex- 
hausted all the water in the room they held up 
their hands in undisguised astonishment. 

"Monsieur is extravagant," they exclaimed, 
[95] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"to waste SO much water!" Fortunately "Mon- 
sieur" was fast asleep, so the remark passed 
unnoticed. 

Later we approached the concierge, and 
asked here if there were not a proper bath-tub 
in the place. She laughed. Les Anglais 
were so much like ducks — they wanted to be 
always in the water. 

"But I will soon have it well for you," she 
declaimed with pride. "I am having two bath 
tubs placed in the cellar, and then you may 
play in the water all the day." 

At the time we looked upon this as her little 
joke, but when, weeks later, one early morning 
we noticed a tall Anglais walking through 
the hotel "lounge" in his pyjamas, with bath 
towel thrown across his arm, we realised that 
she had spoken truth. The bath tubs were 
really and truly in the cellar. 

It was ten days before we succeeded in locat- 
ing the building which we wanted for our hos- 
pital. All the suitable places in Boulogne 
were long since commandeered. Every large 
building, including all the best hotels, had been 
turned into hospitals, so that we were forced to 
go far afield. Finally, twenty-two miles from 
[96] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the city, we found a summer hotel exactly 
suited to our needs. It was in a pine forest, 
and close to the sea shore, an ideal spot for a 
hospital. 

During these ten days the talent of our 
corps conceived the idea of holding a concert 
in the Jean d'arc hall. 

At this time all theatres, music halls, and 
even "movies" in France were closed, and 
music was tabooed. France was taking the 
war seriously. She was mourning her dead 
and the loss of her lands. The sword had been 
thrust deeply into her bosom, and the wound 
was by no means healed. The streets were 
filled with widows, and their long black veils 
symbolised the depth of the nation's grief. 

Let those who will admire the light-hearted- 
ness of Britain — Britain wears no mourning 
for her heroes dead. In Britain it is bour- 
geois to be despondent. We keep up an ap- 
pearance of gaiety even when our hearts are 
heaviest. But France is too natural, too frank 
for such deception. What she feels, she shows 
upon the surface. At first our apparent in- 
difference to our losses and hers was a source 
of irritation. France resented it ; but now she 
[97] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

knows US better. We are not indifferent — it 
is merely an attitude. The two nations now 
understand one another, and in that under- 
standing lies the foundation of a firmer friend- 
ship. 

With success and confidence in the future, 
France has risen out of the "slough of de- 
spond." She has recovered a portion of her 
old-time light-heartedness. We thought her 
effervescent, artificial and unstable; we have 
found her steadfast, true and unshakable. She 
has manifested throughout this desperate 
struggle a grim and immutable determination 
that has been the marvel of her allies and the 
despair of her enemies. 

Realising the temporary distaste for amuse- 
ment in France, our little concert was intended 
to be private and confined solely to our own 
unit. But a few of the new-found French 
friends of the boys waived their objections to 
entertainment, and as a special favour volun- 
teered to come. 

It was a strange and moving sight to see a 

Canadian audience in that far-off land, gravely 

seated in their chairs in the little hall, waiting 

for the curtain to rise. Our staff of Nursing 

[98] 




THE SONG WAS SAD — BUT WE LAUGHED AND LAUGHED UNTH- WE 
WEPT AGAIN 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Sisters honoured the boys with their presence, 
and every officer and man was there. Thirty 
or forty of the native population, in black, a 
little doubtful of the propriety of their action, 
were scattered through the kliaki-clad. 

The boys outdid themselves that night. How 
well they sang those songs of home ! We were 
carried back thousands of miles across the deep 
to our dear old Canada, and many an eye was 
wet with tears which dare not fall. 

But reminiscence fled when Sergeant Honk 
assumed the stage. Some one had told Honk 
he could sing, and — subtle flatterer — ^he had 
been believed. With the first wild squeaky 
note we were back, pell-mell in France. The 
notes rose and fell — but mostly fell ; stumbling 
over and over one another in their vain en- 
deavour to escape from Honk. Some main- 
tained he sang by ear. Perhaps he did — he 
didn't sing by mouth and chords long lost to 
human ken came whistling through his nose. 
The song was sad — but we laughed and 
laughed until we v/ept again. 

At the end of the first verse he seemed a 
little bewildered by the effect, but he had no 
advantage over us in that respect. At the end 
[99] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

of the second verse, seeing his hearers in danger 
of apoplexy, he hesitated, and turning to Tay- 
lor, the pianist, muttered in an aside : 

"They downt understand h'English, them 
bloakes — this ayn't a funny song — ^blimed if 
I downt quit right 'ere, and serve 'em jolly 
well right too!" 

And under a perfect storm of applause and 
cries of protest, Honk departed as he had come 
— anglewise. 

Tim and his brother then had a boxing-bout ; 
and Cameron, who acted as Tim's second, drew 
shrieks of joy from his French admirers, be- 
tween rounds, as he filled his mouth with water 
and blew it like a penny shower into the per- 
spiring breathless face of Tim. 

"A wee drap watter refraishes ye, Tim," he 
declared argumentatively after one of these 
showers. 

"Doze Pea- jammers tinks it's funny," Tim 
puffed. "Let dem have a good time — dey ain't 
see'd nuthin' much lately — an' a good laff 'uU 
help dem digest dere 'patty de frog-grass I" 



[ 100 ] 



CHAPTER VII 

It was my fate, or fortune, to be in charge 
of the advance party which was detailed to pre- 
pare for the opening of our hospital. 

Captain Burnham and I, with about forty 
N.C.O.s and men, and with two days' rations, 
left Boulogne one cold November afternoon, a 
few days after the concert. After a slow train 
journey of three hours' duration, we were de- 
posited at the railway station of a fishing vil- 
lage on the coast. 

If Boulogne prides itself on its odour of dead 
fish, this little place must be an everlasting 
thorn in its side; for all the smells of that 
maladorous city fade into insignificance before 
the concentrated "incense" of the back streets 
of Etaples. We didn't linger unnecessarily in 
the village, but pushed on at the "quick-march" 
and, crossing the bridge, were soon on the 
broad paved road which runs through Le 
Touquet forest. 

It was just dusk, and snow had fallen to the 
[101] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

depth of about two inches ; the most we saw in 
two winters during our stay in that part of 
France. It was a crisp, cold evening, and the 
swinging pace of our march did much to keep 
us warm. 

From time to time we passed large summer 
residences and artistic villas partly hidden in 
the woods, but all the doors were closed, and 
all the windows were dark. Not a human be- 
ing passed us on the road, and the noise of our 
shoes crunching through the crusted snow was 
the only sound which broke the solemn stillness 
of the air. 

Our men too seemed oppressed with the 
weird solitude of the forest and seldom spoke 
above a whisper. 

"Seems as though the world were dead," said 
Burnham, after we had walked nearly two 
miles in silence. 

"Yes," I replied, "it gives one a creepy feel- 
ing passing through this long dark avenue of 
pines. The houses too look as if the inhabitants 
had fled and that no one had the courage to 
return." 

"I understand the Bosches were through 
quite close to here," Burnham remarked, "in 
[ 102 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

their first mad dash for Paris, and that some 
German soldiers were killed near the outskirts 
of this wood." 

"By the gruesomeness of it I can imagine 
they were all killed," I replied. 

By this time we had turned at right angles 
to our former path and entered another long 
avenue of trees. The white walls of an isolated 
mansion stood out in the distance against the 
black-green of the forest and the fading purple 
of the evening sky. The grounds about it were 
enclosed by a high pointed iron fence ; it looked 
a veritable prison. 

After tramping another mile we emerged 
into an open space between the trees and the 
rolling sand dunes of the coast, and saw before 
us a large limestone building, three stories in 
height and almost surrounded with broad, 
glass-enclosed balconies. The tracks of a dis- 
used tramway ran to the gate, and the rust 
upon the rails spoke more forcibly than ever 
of desolation and desertion. 

We passed through the stone gateway and 

crossed the snow-covered lawn. Everything 

was as dark and dreary as the grave. Surely 

no one was within ! We mounted the steps and 

[103] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

rang the bell. Its peal reverberated strangely 
through the empty halls. After a few moments, 
however, a light appeared and a solitary man 
entered the rotunda; he turned the electric 
switch, flooding the room with a bright light. 
He came to the door, unlocked it, and rolled 
it back slowly upon its wheels. 

"Gut evening, zhentlemen," he said in Eng- 
lish, but with a peculiar Franco- German ac- 
cent difficult to diagnose. "It iss fery kolt, iss 
it not?" 

We acknowledged the fact. 

"You are vrom the Canadian Hospital?" he 
queried. 

"You were evidently expecting us," I re- 
plied. "We are the advance party from that 
hospital." 

He pushed the door wide for us to enter. 
We didn't debate the propriety of accepting 
the hospitality of a German, but marched in 
at once. 

"Your dinner vill be retty in a leedle vhile. 
I vill haf Alvred ligh'd you the grate, und you 
soon fery comfortable vill be." 

"Show me to the kitchen first," I asked him, 
"and let me see what arrangements you have 
[104] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

for supper for the men. When they are made 
comfortable it will be plenty of time for our 
dinner." 

He piloted us into a large room with red tile 
floor. There was good accommodation for the 
men, and the kitchen ranges were close by. 
They had their cooks and rations with them, 
and as soon as we had chosen their sleeping 
quarters and had seen that everything was sat- 
isfactory we returned for our own dinner. 

In a commodious room, just off the rotunda, 
a roaring coal fire was blazing on the hearth. 
Big easy-chairs had been conveniently placed 
for us, and Burnham and I fell into them and 
stretched our tired feet toward the fender upon 
the rich red Turkish rug. The table was spread 
close by, and we noticed the fine linen, the 
sparkling cut glass, crested silver and 
Limoge china. The scent of delicious 
French cooking was wafted to us past the 
heavy silken hangings of the door. Presently 
our German host appeared once more: 

"Vat vine vill the zhentlemen have mit zehr 
dinner?" he enquired politely. 

Burnham threw himself back into his seat 
[105] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and laughed aloud. "Holy smoke!" he 
chuckled, "and we are at the war!" 

"What wines have you?" I enquired tenta- 
tively. 

"Anyzing you wish to name, zir," he re- 
sponded with a certain show of pride. 

I thought I would put him to the test. 
"Bring us a bottle of 'Ayala,' '04 vintage," I 
commanded. 

'Mit pleasure, zir." And he bowed and re- 
tired to get it. 

Burnham slapped his knee and burst out: 
"Am I awake or dreaming? We walk four 
miles through a stark forest on a winter night, 
enter a deserted hostel, are received by a Ger- 
man spy and feted like the Lord Mayor. I ex- 
pect to fall out of the balloon any minute and 
hit the earth with a nasty bump !" 

"I'm a little dazed myself," I admitted, "but 
it's all a part of the soldier-game. Some other 
day we'll find the cards reversed, and have to 
play it just the same." 

Our host, however, was not a German, al- 
though that was his native tongue. He came 
from that little-known country of Luxem- 
bourg, which, sandwiched in between France 
[106] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and her Teutonic enemy, has still maintained 
a weak and unavailing neutrality. Being too 
small and unprotected to resist, the German 
army marched unmolested across it in the early 
days of war. 

"Alvred," who was a French-Swiss, and 
spoke more languages than I can well remem- 
ber, waited upon us at table. We were just 
finishing an excellent five-course dinner with 
a tiny glass of coin-treau, when the sound of 
a motor-car stopping at the door aroused us 
from our dream of heavenly isolation. 

As we stepped into the hall, the door opened, 
and in walked the colonel, the senior major 
and the quartermaster, who had followed us 
from Boulogne by road. 

"Well, how do you like our new hospital?" 
the colonel demanded with a satisfied smile. 

"We love it," Burnham exclaimed. "It is 
weird, romantic and altogether comme il 
faut" 

I suggested that a liqueur and a cigar might 
not be unacceptable after their long drive. The 
colonel smiled appreciatively as he replied: 

"We are a bit chilly after our journey; I 
think a little drink will do us good. What do 
[ 107 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

you say, Major Baldwin?" This question was 
addressed to the senior major, who, with the 
others, had now entered our dining room. 

The artistic surroundings drove the major 
into poetry at once. He exclaimed: 

" 'Ahl my heloved, fill the cup that clears 
To-day of past regrets and future fears/ " 

"Splendid!" cried Burnham enthusiastically. 
"Now, let's have 'Gunga Din' — you do it so 
well! How does it go? 'You're a better drink 
than I am, Gordon Gin!' " 

"No, no!" said the major deprecatingly. 
"You mustn't abuse Kipling — it's too early in 
the evening." 

Whether the major intended abusing that 
famous author at a later hour, or merely re- 
citing from him, we didn't enquire. We talked 
until late, formulating our plans for the mor- 
row and for many days to come. We made a 
tour of inspection about the building. The 
colonel unfolded his plans as we walked along 
the halls. 

"This suite," he said, as we came to the end 
of the hall, "will make a splendid pair of 
[ 108 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

operating rooms, an anaesthetic and a sterilis- 
ing room. The fifth will do for a dressing 
room for the surgeons, and in the sixth Reggy 
will have full sway — that will be his eye and 
ear reformatory. On the left we'll install our, 
X-ray plant, so that all surgical work may be 
done in this one wing." 

"What about the hotel furnishings," I en- 
quired, "are they to remain in places?" 

"Everything must go, except what is abso- 
lutely necessary to the comfort or care of 
patients," he replied. "It seems a pity, but we 
are here not only to cure patients, but to pro- 
tect the Government from needless expense. 
In the morning set the men to work dis- 
mantling the entire building." 

We walked along to the opposite end of the 
hall. 

"Here's a fine room," exclaimed Major 
Baldwin, as he peeped into the dainty boudoir 
which I had chosen as a bedroom. "Who 
sleeps in this luxurious state?" 

"I do- — for to-night," I replied. 

"I want that room for myself," he declared. 
"It looks like the best in the place." 

How is it we always want that which the 
[ 109 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

other fellow has ? Its value seems enhanced by- 
its inaccessibility. 

"It shall be yours to-morrow night," I re- 
plied to this covetous request. It was no dep- 
rivation to give it up as there were fifty other 
rooms, which the Major had not seen, more 
richly decorated and more attractive than mine. 
This little room was cosy and prettily fur- 
nished in bird's-eye maple. It boasted an 
Axminster rug, a brass bed, and the glow from 
the open fire lent it a charm which had cap- 
tivated Major Baldwin's eye. 

There were other suites of rooms, with 
private baths attached, and hot and cold run- 
ning water. The floors were covered with 
costly Persian rugs, and the furniture was of 
hand-carved olive wood or mahogany. Private 
balconies overlooked the golf course and the 
forest. Every detail bespoke wealth and 
luxury combined with the most modern con- 
trivances for comfort. 

The colonel was amused at us: "Pick out 
whatever rooms you like," he said, "and enjoy 
yourselves while you may, for in three days' 
time no one but patients will live in this build- 
ing. The men will sleep in the Golf-club 
[110] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

house, the nurses in one of these deserted 
villas, and we shall have another villa for our- 
selves." 

We discovered that our hospital building 
was owned by an English company; hence the 
great number of bathrooms — thirty-four in all. 
The halls and glass enclosed balconies were 
steam heated throughout, and each room had 
its old-fashioned open fireplace to combat the 
chill of winter days. 

At midnight the colonel and his party left 
us and commenced their return journey to 
Boulogne. Burnham and I climbed the stairs 
to my bedroom, our footsteps echoing loudly 
through the untenanted halls. We sat and 
chatted for an hour before the fire. I was get- 
ting very sleepy — we had dined well — and as I 
looked at Burnham his form seemed to dwindle 
to smaller and smaller proportions until he 
looked like a pigmy from Lilliput. I amused 
myself awhile watching this strange phe- 
nomenon. By and by his diminutive size pro- 
voked me to remark: 

"Do you know, Burnham, although an hour 
ago when you entered the room, I mistook you 
for a full-grown man, I can now see that in 
[111] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

reality you are only about ten inches tall — ^yet 
your every feature is perfect." 

"Much obliged for the compliment implied 
in your last clause," he laughed; "you cor- 
roborate suspicions which I have long enter- 
tained that I'm a handsome dog whose beauty 
has remained unappreciated. It's a strange 
coincidence, but I am labouring under the op- 
posite delusion, and although an hour ago you 
waddled into the room — just an ordinary fat 
man; now I view you as a Colossus." 

I rather approved his regarding me as a 
Colossus, but saw that I must at once frown 
upon that "waddling" idea. It's an impres- 
sion I can't afford to let go abroad. 

"Come, let's to bed," I cried, "and sleep 
'will knit your ravelled sleeve of care' — I really 
think your wide-awake impressions are the 
worst!" 

We arose at six and under our direction the 
men commenced the work of disrobing the 
hotel. The stern necessities of war permit no 
sentiment. Everything had to go: The beau- 
tiful paintings, the silken hangings, the 
Oriental rugs, the artistic statuary, were all 
rapidly removed and packed away for safety. 
[112] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The card and dining rooms and lounges were 
stripped of their carpets, and before night its 
former guests would scarce have recognised the 
place. Sanitation is the first and paramount 
law of a Military Hospital; carpets and un- 
necessary furniture are a source of danger, for 
such a variety of diseases follow the troops that 
special care must be given to every possibility 
for infection and its prevention. 

By five that evening the colonel, the matron 
and the nursing sisters arrived, and a few 
hours later came the balance of our officers 
and men. Motor lorries and ambulances toiled 
through the gates, laden with our equipment. 
Hundreds of boxes, crates of iron beds, bales 
of mattresses and blankets, folding bedside 
tables, bags of tents and poles, were brought to 
the door in an apparently endless stream. As 
fast as the lorries arrived the men unloaded 
them, piling boxes and bales under the bal- 
conies for protection. 

Huxford and the team did their share too, 
bringing up loads of food from the train for 
the men and for prospective patients. 

The senior major was pale and tired; he 
had been up since dawn and had worked hard. 
[113] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Nothing had been forgotten, and the transport 
of men and accoutrement had been accom- 
plished systematically and well. He was a 
good soldier, true to his duty, stern and un- 
flinching, and he never asked others to work 
without being willing to do more than his own 
share. Tired as he was, he would neither rest 
nor eat until the last box was unloaded, and 
the last lorrie had left the grounds — and the 
men shared his deprivation. 

It was almost nine p.m. as Tim and Barker, 
staggering under the weight of a tremendous 
case, came across the driveway and dumped the 
last box to the ground. Tim sat breathless for 
a moment upon it, then looked wearily up at 
Barker, with his head on one side as was his 
custom when he soliloquised. 

"Dat's a heavy load t'get offen an empty 
stummick," he gasped. "I can't lif annuder 
poun' until I gets a slab o' roas' beef under me 
belt. I'm dat hungry I could lick de sweat off 
a bake-shop window." 

"I smell supper cookin' now," said Barker. 
"Did ye see th' ranges? Some cookery, I kin 
tell ye — they kin roast a whole cow at one 
time!" 

[114] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"An' I kin eat dat same cow jus' as fas' as 
dey kin roast it," Tim declared. "I'm dat 
weak from starvation dat a drink uv holy water 
'ud make me drunk!" 

About nine-thirty p.m. the men fell upon 
their supper like a pack of hungry wolves. 

"Gee! — Don't food taste good — when ye're 
hungry," drawled Wilson, with his mouth full. 

"Dat's right," Tim replied. "Glad t' see ye're 
perkin' up an' takin' a little notice agin. I 
fought youse and Huxford wuz about all in." 

"Where'd you get the onion?" Wilson 
queried. 

"I foun' dis in d' hotel garbage," said Tim, 
as he took a large bite out of a Spanish speci- 
men, an' I wuz jus' t'inkin' wat a difF'rence 
there is 'tween an onion and a cake. Hav ye 
noticed it yerself ?" 

"I hevn't eat cake in so long I don't s'pose 
I could tell 'em apart now," Wilson replied. 

"Well, dey say ye can't eat yer cake an' hev 
it too; but wit an onion it's different — wen ye 
eat it, it's like castin' yer bread upon de 
troubled waters — it'll always come back t' ye." 

Cameron looked up as if he were about to 
correct this scriptural misquotation. It seemed 
[115] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

to harass his religious sense. He opened his 
mouth to speak, but it was too full for utter- 
ance, and he had to content himself with a re- 
proachful look at Tim. 

Ten o'clock found everybody sleepy and ex- 
hausted. The boys didn't trouble to go to their 
quarters, but, crawling into any available 
corner, threw themselves down upon bundles 
or empty beds, and soon were fast asleep. The 
sergeant-major was too tired to care, and for 
one night at least discipline was happily for- 
gotten. 

In the morning early we were at it again, 
tooth and nail. If some of our friends at home, 
who think the trained nurse is too proud to 
work, could have only seen those splendid girls 
on their first day in the new hospital, they 
would still be lost in wonder. They washed 
woodwork and windows, helped to put up un- 
ruly beds, swept the floors and did a hundred 
other menial labours — menial only because in 
our artificial life we call them so — cheerfully 
and speedily. 

If some day, by chance, one of our nursing 
sisters reads these lines, and blushes at the 
recollection of her work that day, let her re- 
[116] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

member that by that very labour, in our eyes, 
she was glorified. We shall always remember 
with pride those brave girls who were not 
afraid, when duty called, to "stoop and con- 
quer." 

The following evening I was despatched to 
Boulogne to interview the A.D.M.S. regard- 
ing our hospital. I was met at the office door 
by the D. A.D.M.S., who was one of that breed 
of cock-sure officer — now merci a Dieu al- 
most extinct. 

"Hello," he cried brusquely. "Is your hos- 
pital ready for patients?" 

"We should prefer another day or two of 
preparation, sir," I replied. 

"How long have you been out there now?" 
he demanded. 

"Two days, sir." 

"What! At the end of two days you mean 
to tell me you're not ready! You're very 
slow." 

It was the first time we had been accused of 
sluggishness. It was undeserved, and I re- 
sented it accordingly. I replied — not too 
politely, I fear: 

"You will please remember we had to dis- 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

mantle and remove the carpets and furniture 
of a large hotel, take stock of the fixtures and 
house-clean the building before commencing 
the setting up of our hospital equipment. We 
are ready for two hundred patients now — but 
we prefer another day or two to make every- 
thing complete." 

"I'll send you two hundred patients to- 
night," he cried. "Be prepared for them." 

The A.D.M.S., a typical English gentleman 
of the old school, interfered. He called his 
deputy aside and said to him : 

"You mustn't rush patients into a new hos- 
pital in this manner. Give them a few days' 
grace." He turned to me and continued: "You 
will receive a trainload of patients three days 
from now. That will give you plenty of time. 
Kindly inform your commanding officer to 
this effect." 

Some men brush one's fur the wrong way, 
and others smooth it back again. I had been 
so rumpled by the D.A.D.M.S. that every 
bristle of my not too gentle nature was stand- 
ing on end — it was not only what he said, but 
the manner of the saying; yet the A.D.M.S., 
with one gentle, kindly stroke of common sense, 
[118] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

had soothed and made me human once again. 
I felt my wrath slipping quietly away, and I 
basked for a moment in the sunshine of a genial 
personality. I gratefully murmured: 
"Thank you, sir. I shall tell him." 
"I trust your hospital will soon prove itself 
a credit to your staff and to Canada. Good 
night, and good luck," he said, as he shook me 
warmly by the hand. 

It was midnight of the third day after this 
interview. The orderly on duty in the hall was 
suddenly startled by the sharp ring of the tele- 
phone bell. He sprang to his feet and put the 
strange French receiver to his ear. 

"Yes, this is the Canadian Hospital," he 
answered; and a distant voice gave this mes- 
sage: 

"A train-load of three hundred wounded will 
arrive at the station at two a.m. Be ready for 
them!" 



[119] 



CHAPTEK VIII 

At last the time for action had come. Three 
hundred wounded would arrive in two hours; 
one-fifth the number would throw the average 
city hospital into confusion. Nurses and of- 
ficers hurried from their villas to the hospital. 
The cooks and orderlies were already on duty, 
and the hospital presented a scene of bustling 
but systematic activity. 

Our ten wards, each named after a province 
of our beloved Dominion, were soon ready for 
the reception of patients, and the deft hands 
of the nursing sisters added the final touch of 
extra preparation. 

The colonel's motor car throbbed in waiting 
at the door, and ambulance after ambulance, 
with its quota of stretcher-bearers, whirled 
away into the darkness of the forest on the 
road to the station. It was a clear, cold night. 
The ground was hardened by the frost, and the 
pale quarter-moon cast a faint chill light over 
the trees. ^ 

[120] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Reggy and I clambered into the colonel's 
car as it started, and in a moment we were 
moving swiftly through the gaunt, trembling 
shadows of the wood. As we approached the 
turning of the road we could see in the distance 
the flashing headlights of other motors from 
the English hospital, as they too sped toward 
the train. 

When we reached the station a constant 
stream of vehicles was pouring through the 
gates, and as fast as each car or ambulance 
arrived, it was backed into the waiting line. 
Every few yards carbide jets spluttered in the 
wind, adding their fitful glare to the strange- 
ness of the scene. 

After about an hour's wait the shrill whistle 
of the incoming French train warned us that 
our vigil was nearly over. In a few minutes 
the coaches, each with its big red cross, came 
clanking slowly into the station yard. Car 
after car passed by: one, two, three, — ^ten, — 
twenty; it was a tremendous train. At last it 
stopped, the doors opened and we had our first 
glimpse of the brave boys who had held the 
line. 

Dozens of Scots and English battalions we^"^ 
[ 121 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

represented, but there were no Canadians save 
ourselves as yet in France. Some of the boys 
could stand or walk, and they clambered slowly 
and painfully down the steep steps and stood 
in little wondering groups. God knows they 
looked tired, and their clothes were still cov- 
ered with the dried mud from the trenches ; for 
during a battle speed and the necessities of the 
moment are the important things — the refine- 
ments of civilisation must await time and op- 
portunity. Many were smoking cigarettes; 
some had bandages about their head or hands 
or feet ; some had their arms in slings ; but from 
none was there the slightest groan or sound of 
complaint. They waited with soldierly but 
pathetic patience until we were ready to take 
care of them. 

One tall young man who was standing apart 
from the others and whose face was unusually 
pale, approached me and saluted. His right 
hand was thrust into the bosom of his coat, 
with his left he nervously drew a cigarette 
from his pocket. 

"Would you mind helping me light this, 
sir?" he asked respectfully. "I can't protect 
the match from the wind." 
[122] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

As I assisted him I enquired: "Have you 
had your right hand wouncied ? I see you keep 
it in your coat." 

"It's not exactly that, sir," he replied, with 
a faint smile. "I have no right hand — had it 
blown off this morning." He drew the band- 
aged stump from his breast as he spoke and 
held it up for inspection. 

"But you must be suffering frightfully!" I 
exclaimed in pity, surprised at his coolness. 

"It does give me 'Gip' now and again. I 
can bear it better when I smoke," and he pulled 
tremulously at his cigarette. 

I helped the brave fellow into one of the 
waiting motors and turned to see what I could 
do for the others. There were dozens with 
bandaged feet who limped slowly toward the 
ambulances. 

"What has happened to you chaps?" I en- 
quired, as I came to a group of six, all ap- 
parently suffering from the same condition, 
and who could scarcely walk. 

"Trench feet, sir," they answered readily. 

At the time this was a new disease to me, 
but we soon saw all too much of it. It cor- 
responds quite closely to what in Canada is 
[ 123 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

known as "chilblain," but is much more pain- 
ful, and is in some ways equivalent to "frost- 
bite." It is caused by prolonged immersion in 
ice-cold water or liquid mud. In those days 
too, the trenches were not as well built as they 
are to-day, or the ground was lower and more 
boggy. Men were subjected to great priva- 
tions, and suffered untold hardships. "Trench 
foot" has now almost entirely disappeared, and 
conditions in the trenches are altogether better. 

"Were you standing long in the water?" I 
asked them. 

"We've been in it night and day since Sun- 
day," they replied — and this was Friday! 

"Was the water deep?" I asked. 

"The mud was up to the waist," one an- 
swered; "an' poor Bill Goggins stepped in a 
'ole in the trench an' were drowned afore we 
could get to 'im." 

Another spoke up : "A lad from my platoon 
got into a part of the trench that were like a 
quicksand, on'y 'e went down so fast — like as 
if there was a suction from below. We seen 
'im goin', an' 'e called fer 'elp, but w'en we 
got to 'im 'e were down to 'is chin, an' we 
couldn't pull 'im back." 

[ 124 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed in horror. 
"Was he drowned too?" 

" 'E were that, sir," he replied. "It were 
jolly 'ard to see 'im go, an' us right there!" 
and there were tears in the good fellow's eyes 
as he spoke. 

"Climb into the motor, boys," I said. "We'll 
try to make up a little for the hell you've all 
been through." 

There were others who had been severely 
wounded ; some with broken arms or legs ; some 
shot through the head or chest. It was wonder- 
ful to see the gentleness and kindness of our 
own rough lads as they lifted them tenderly 
from bed to stretcher, and carried them from 
the train to the waiting ambulances. 

I stepped inside the train for a moment. It 
was a marvel of a hospital on wheels. It had 
comfortable spring beds and mattresses, and 
soft woollen blankets. There were kitchens, a 
dispensary, an emergency operating room and 
even bathrooms. A staff of medical officers, 
nurses and trained orderlies did all which 
human power can do to make the men com- 
fortable during a trying journey. Every man 
had had his supper, and his wounds had been 
[125] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

dressed en route as scientifically and care- 
fully as if he had been in a "Base Hospital." 

The ambulances rolled slowly away from the 
train with their precious loads, the drivers 
cautiously picking their way along the smooth- 
est parts of the road ; for to the man with a 
broken leg or arm the slightest jolt causes 
pain. 

We saw the boys again at the entrance to the 
hospital, lying in rows on stretchers, or stand- 
ing patiently in line, waiting until their names 
and numbers were duly recorded. Each one, 
as this procedure was completed, was given a 
little card on which the name of his ward and 
the number of his bed was written. He was 
then conducted or carried to his allotted place. 

How tired they looked as they sat wearily 
upon the edge of their beds, waiting for the 
orderlies to come and assist them to undress! 
But even here they were able to smile and crack 
their little jokes from bed to bed. 

As soon as they were undressed, they were 
given a refreshing bath, in which they revelled 
after their weeks of dirty work and mud. After 
the bath came clean, warm pyjamas, a cup of 
hot cocoa or soup, a slice of bread and butter, 
[126] 



THE FIRST CANiVDIANS IN FRANCE 

and last, but to the soldier never least, a 
cigarette. 

To him the cigarette is the panacea for all 
ills. I have seen men die with a cigarette be- 
tween their lips — the last favour they had re- 
quested on earth. If the soldier is in pain, he 
smokes for comfort ; if he is restless he smokes 
for solace; when he receives good news, he 
smokes for joy; if the news is bad, he smokes 
for consolation ; if he is well — he smokes ; when 
he is ill — he smokes. But good news or bad, 
sick or well, he always smokes. 

As I entered the ward a Highlander, not 
yet undressed, was sitting upon the side of his 
bed puffing contentedly at his cigarette. His 
tunic was still spattered with dried blood. 

"Are you badly wounded?" I asked him. 

"Not verra badly, sir," he returned, as he 
stood at attention. 

"But you have a lot of blood on your tunic," 
I said, pointing to his right side and hip. 

"It's not a' mine, sir," he replied as he 
grinned from ear to ear — "it's a souvenir from 
a BoscTie, but he did make a sma' hole in ma 
thigh wi' his bayonet." 

"And what happened to him?" 
[127] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

He laughed outright this time. "He's got 
ma bayonet an' ma rifle too," he cried. "Oh, 
man, but it was a gran' ficht!" 

"Is he dead?" I asked. 

"Dead?" he exclaimed. "I hae his top-hat 
wi' me noo;" and he held up a Prussian helmet 
to our admiring gaze. 

I congratulated him and passed on; but I 
had little time just then for chatting. All the 
wounds had to be unbandaged, washed and 
freshly dressed, and although we worked rapid- 
ly, the nurses undoing the bandages and at- 
tending to the minor cases, while I did the 
more serious ones myself, it was broad daylight 
before we had finished. The morning sun, 
stealing gently over the trees, found patients 
and doctors alike ready for a few hours' sleep. 

A similar scene had been enacted in every 
other ward. It was nearly six a.m. as the other 
officers and myself, with the exception of the 
unfortunate orderly officer, started down the 
road toward the villa. Our billet was about a 
quarter-mile away, but our "mess" was in the 
hospital building. I crawled into bed at last, 
very, very weary, and in a few moments was 
lost to the world. 

[128] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

It was Tim who finally roused me from 
this heavy sleep. He was standing at the foot 
of my bed with his head on one side in his cus- 
tomary bird-like attitude. His stiff black fore- 
lock hung straight over his brow. I was just 
conscious enough to hear him saying : 

"Wake up, maje!" 

Before strangers, or before brother officers, 
Tim was always respectful to us. He was a 
trained soldier, and, when occasion demanded, 
could be, and was, very regimental. But in 
the privacy of our home (of which he was in 
charge) Tim treated us like children whose 
pranks might be tolerated but must not be en- 
couraged. 

"What's the trouble, Tim?" I enquired 
sleepily. 

"It's time to git up," he complained. "D'ye 
s'pose ye're goin' t' sleep all day, jes' because 
ye loss 3^e're beauty sleep las' night? Dis is 
war — dis is!" 

"What's the hour?" I asked. 

"It's ten o'clock," he replied, "an' dat Cap' 

Reggy's in de nex' room — chloroformed agin; 

wit his knees drawed up an' his mout' open 

ventilatin' his brain. Dey ain't a Pullman in 

[129] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

de whole worl' dat's as good a sleeper as dat 
gent." 

By this time I was fully awake, as Tim in- 
tended I should be. I turned over on my side 
and addressed him: 

"Run downstairs now, Tim, and make me a 
good hot cup of coffee, and a slice of toast with 
fried mushrooms on top." 

Tim stared at me a moment in open-mouthed 
amazement. We weren't supposed to eat at the 
villa, but Tim was a good cook and those he 
favoured with his "friendship" might coax a 
cup of tea before rising. 

"Fried mushrooms," he repeated, as he went 
toward the door, shaking his head slowly from 
side to side. "Fried — mush — rooms! Gees, 
an' dey calls dis active service!" 

But in spite of this show of pessimism, he re- 
turned shortly with the breakfast as ordered. 

When we reached the hospital that morning 
everything was as neat and clean as though 
nothing had happened the night before. No 
adequate description can be given of the trained 
nurse at the front. She is one of the marvels 
of the war. Patient, industrious, cheerful, 
self-sacrificing and brave, she has robbed war 
[130] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

of much of its horrors. She has made the 
wounded soldier feel that a sister's care, a 
mother's love and a clever woman's skill follow 
him wherever he goes. Her smile has cheered 
his lagging day; her gentle touch has soothed 
his pain and the warm sympathy of her kindly 
heart has made the foreign land a home. Un- 
der stress of work and nervous strain, ever for- 
getful of self, always thoughtful for others, no 
truer or nobler band of gentle women ever left 
the shores of Canada. 

The patients had had a refreshing sleep and 
a good breakfast and were now snugly tucked 
in their clean sheets and warm blankets, look- 
ing very happy and contented. Even those 
who were badly wounded had partly forgotten 
their troubles. Some had souvenirs — German 
rifle bullets or bits of shell which had been ex- 
tracted at the Clearing Hospital farther up 
the line, and these they exhibited with great 
pride to their fellow patients. The German 
helmet was always an object of interest. The 
slanting cut in the glossy leather of one spoke 
better than words of a. bayonet thrust which 
had gone home. Each little bedside table had 
a few priceless trinkets, bought with blood, and 
[131 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

brought with great difficulty and care from the 
battlefield. 

It was our custom to postpone surgical op- 
erations, except urgent ones to save life, for 
one or two days, in order to. give the tired 
soldiers a chance to get a much-needed rest — a 
simple expedient whereby many lives were 
saved. The patients were grateful for this lit- 
tle reprieve, and showed their gratitude by re- 
covering more rapidly. 

But sometimes it was necessary to operate 
at once. That morning I found a poor chap 
who had been shot through the brain v/ith a 
rifle bullet. The missile had entered the temple 
and emerged at the back of the skull, fractur- 
ing the bone both at the point of entry and exit. 
His heavy breathing and stupor told us the 
case called for immediate relief. In the opera- 
ting room pieces of the skull were removed, 
the depressed bone lifted, and in about an hour 
the patient was taken back to his ward. We 
had little hope of his recovery. 

The following day, when I entered the hos- 
pital, his bed was empty. I thought: "Poor fel- 
low ! He has died in the night and no one has 
sent me word." I turned with a feeling of dis- 
[132] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

appointment to the man in the next bed and 
asked : 

"What has become of your neighbour?" 

"Oh," he repHed, "he's just gone out to the 
wash room. He'll be back in a few minutes. 
He stole out of the ward while the nursing sis- 
ter was in the other room." 

While we were talking he walked in, got 
quietly into bed and reached for a cigarette. 
I bade him good morning, repressing, as well 
as I could, my astonishment. 

"You are feeling better this morning?" I 
remarked, as casually as if he had had a cold 
in his head. 

"Oh, yes, I'm very well in myself, sir," he 
replied with a contented smile, "but I have a 
little headache — I'm thinkin' the bandages are 
a bit tight." 

I loosened them and gave him a warning not 
to get up again. He seemed disappointed, but 
promised not to transgress a second time. 

It is surprising and pleasing to know that 

a large percentage of men shot through the 

brain recover. Seven out of nine who entered 

the hospital one day, some months later, made 

[133] 



THE riEST CANADIANS IN FEANCE 

a good recovery, and when they left were ap- 
parently mentally sound. 

A young lieutenant who arrived with one 
train load of wounded, walked unassisted up 
the steps, and smilingly addressed the Regis- 
trar : 

"About a week ago, a sly bullet popped over 
the trench and caught me in the temple. For- 
tunately it passed out through the opposite 
side. They took me down to the Field Ambu- 
lance, and, as the surgeon wasn't very busy that 
morning, he said he'd like to take a look inside 
and see the works." He laughed aloud at this 
gruesome witticism and continued: "So he gave 
me a whiff of ether, opened the skull and, just 
as I expected, found 'nobody home.' He closed 
the door, and here I am, as fit as a fiddle. What 
a lucky devil I am to have no brains !" 

A number of wounded officers had arrived 
with the men, and many of our private rooms 
were filled. We had retained the brass beds, a 
few practical chairs and small rugs for these 
rooms, and with a good fire in the grate they 
looked particularly cosy and attractive. 

The nurses, too, took special pride in sup- 
plementing the meals of the patients, both of- 
[134] 



THE riEST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ficers and men, with delicacies of their own. 
To the hot roast chicken was added creamed 
asparagus or French peas, followed by appetis- 
ing salads of fresh green vegetables — which 
may be had in France the year round. A bot- 
tle of ale or wine and hot-house grapes or 
Spanish canteloupe helped to make life pleas- 
ant and hastened them along the road to health. 
Oh, you may well believe that nothing was 
omitted which made for their comfort or well- 
being. We felt, and justly so, that for the men 
who "held the line" there was nothing in this 
wide world half good enough. As the inspect- 
ing general remarked to the colonel a few 
days later: 

"Give the boys the best the land affords — if 
they want Malaga grapes, get them. If they 
want beer or wine, let them have it. Spare no 
expense that will make them happy and well — 
they deserve it all!" 

As I entered the room of a young English 
captain, I found him propped up in bed with a 
few magazines and books beside him. He was 
looking very bright and happy. 

"How are you feeling this morning?" It 
was our stock question. 

[ 135 ] 



THE riEST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

He smiled pleasantly as he replied: "Splen- 
did, sir, splendid. Your nurses are charmingly 
attentive and kind. The rooms and meals are 
delightful. I'm in great dread lest I get well 
too soon!" 

He was wounded in the foot; it had been 
shot through with a piece of high explosive 
shell. The small bones were fractured, but he 
appeared to be suffering little. The nurse deft- 
ly assisted me with his dressing; after we had 
finished he said: 

"I have a slip of paper here you might be 
interested to see. I shall always treasure it as 
a souvenir of a brave man." 

He handed me a little crumpled square on 
which a few lines in pencil were scrawled, and 
continued: "I showed that note to my com- 
manding officer before they carried me away. 
It was an humiliation, but it was my duty." 

"What does it mean?" I asked him. "I'm 
sure this little bit of paper has a history." 

He smiled reminiscently and began: "Our 
company had been holding a point in the lines 
which, under a terrific bombardment, had be- 
come untenable. The commanding officer 
[136] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ordered us to withdraw to a safer trench in the 
rear. I called my men and we succeeded in 
retiring to the position indicated, in good order 
and with few casualties. 

"I thought every man had left the advanced 
trench, but a few moments later when a small 
body of Germans attempted to storm it, we 
were astonished to see it defended by rapid 
rifle fire from some unknown source. The bat- 
tle raged for some hours all along the line, but 
still this little spot was stubbornly held. Again 
and again the Germans assailed it; but each 
time with the same lack of success — each attack 
they lost twenty or thirty men, and those who 
reached the trench were apparently unable to 
oust its mysterious defenders. When dusk 
fell the fighting ceased; and shortly after, I 
received this little note — it speaks for itself." 

I spread the paper upon my knee and read : 

''Sir: 

"Two other men and I were left behind when 
the Company withdrew. During the fight we 
collected in eight stragglers from other bat- 
talions, so we are now eleven. We held the line 
[137] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

against all the attacks. If you, sir, and the rest 
of the company wish to come back now, the 
trench is perfectly safe. 

"James Guffin, 

"Sergeant" 



1 138 ] 



CHAPTEH IX 

Every military unit at the front has its 
"mascot." Ours was no exception; in fact we 
overdid it, and became a sort of home for pets 
of all shapes and sizes, from Jean, a little 
French boy nine years of age, who wandered 
in one day from Soissons, to nursing sister 
Marlow's babj^ goat. 

Jean's mother was dead; his father was 
fighting at the front, and the little chap being, 
as we discovered later, of a migratory disposi- 
tion, forsook his native haunts and "took the 
trail." How or why he came to us, no one 
knows, but he liked our company, so he stayed. 

A small boy being the only sort of animal we 
had not already adopted, was hailed with joy, 
and before two days had passed, we had taken 
up a collection and bought him a complete mili- 
tary uniform, from cap to boots. He couldn't 
speak a word of English — but he was a boy, 
and as we too had been boys not so very long 
ago we understood one another from the start. 
[ 139 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Jean picked up English words with disturbing 
rapidity. He had learned several distinct and 
artistic varieties of oaths before we were aware 
he understood at all. 

Jean and the goat had much in common. 
They had both been cast upon a warlike world 
at a tender age. They had both adopted us, 
and both accepted their living from us with 
gracious condescension. 

According to world-wide custom, the goat 
was promptly nick-named "Billy," although he 
was a mere bundle of lank grey wool with legs 
so long that it must have made him dizzy every 
time he viewed the earth below. He was just 
strong enough to stagger over to the nursing 
bottle which Jean held out in his grimy fist. 

Jogman loved Jean; Jean loved the goat, 
and the goat loved Jogman. Thus v/as estab- 
lished an "odd-fellows" circle into which none 
might break. 

"Dat's a hand fer ye," Tim commented to 
Jogman, as the pair watched Jean feeding the 
goat. "A hand like dat ain't friends wit' soap 
an' water, but de goat ain't too pertickler." 

"I washed him about an hour ago," Jogman 
[ 140 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

replied defensively, "but ye can't keep th' boy 
clean — ^Iie ain't happy without dirt." 

Jean sat upon the ground as they spoke, still 
holding the nursing bottle up to Billy's greedy 
mouth. He understood only a little of what 
they were saying, but looked up quickly at the 
last few words. 

"I'm happy here — ^me," he cried. "Bien con- 
tent — damn!" 

The expletive was addressed to Billy who 
with a sudden tug had pulled the bottle from 
his hand. 

"Do ye know where small boys that swear 
go?" asked Jogman reprovingly. 

"Big boys what swear go to de war," Jean 
contended, "an' me soldier too." 

"If you do it again I'll send ye back to yer 
aunt at Soissons," said Jogman. 

The child sprang to his feet at once, and 
catching him by the hand cried tearfully: "Nol 
— No! — No! — not back to Soissons — Oh! Je 
vous en prie, non!" 

What strange fear had driven him from 

home? He couldn't or wouldn't explain it; 

but he was in great dread of being sent back, 

and it was the one threat which influenced him. 

[141] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Well, well," said Jogman soothingly, "be 
a good boy, an' don't swear no more — then we 
kin keep ye with us." 

Jogman had a good heart, but a bad stomach 
— it's difficult to get a perfect combination. 
Jogman drank; so did the goat, but they im- 
bibed from different bottles and with different 
results. He had been on his good behaviour for 
almost two weeks — ^his money had run out. But 
pay day came at last and trouble always fol- 
lowed in its wake. 

Thirty dollars — over one hundred and fifty 
francs in French money — was enough to turn 
the head of any soldier. With a bulging pocket 
the Tommy's heart throbbed nervously, until 
he got a chance to "blow it in." But before this 
fortuitous event was completed Jogman had 
signally disgraced himself and us. Tim ac- 
costed him as he was leaving the hospital 
grounds : 

"Where are ye goin'?" he demanded. 

"Goin' to town to see th' sights," Jogman 
returned with a grin. 

''Some sights — dose gals," Tim growled. 
"Remember yer failin' an' don't hit de can too 
[ 142 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

hard. I can't bear seein' ye doin' mor'n six 
days 'First Field' per week." 

Jogman had good cause to know to what 
form of mihtary punishment Tim alluded. He 
had already had several trials of it. 

Paris-plage was only two miles distant, and 
its smart cafes and pretty girls called irresisti- 
bly to the lonely boys. The girls, however, 
never worried Jogman. His life was full when 
his stomach was full, and the fumes of "cog- 
nac" or "whiskey blanc" beckoned him like a 
siren's smile. Loaded down with his full 
month's pay and with a twenty-four hour pass 
in his pocket, he took the shortest path through 
the forest towards his objective. 

The day was clear and almost warm, and the 
soft breeze droned lazily through the pines. As 
he reached the edge of the wood he saw before 
him the sand dunes rolling gently toward the 
sea. There was a weird fascination about those 
great hollows and hills of sand. Time and the 
wind had beaten them so firmly that one might 
tread upon their crusted surface and scarcely 
leave a footprint. Craters as large as the 
Roman Coliseum, surrounded by tufted grass, 
spread before his gaze, but he tramped 
[143] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

stolidly on, hardly conscious of the lonely 
beauty of his environment. All that Jogman 
saw was the top of the large French hospital 
which marked the edge of the town and stood 
out clearly against the deep blue of the sea. 

When he came to the highest point of the 
dunes he idly noticed the strange house sur- 
mounting it — a dwelling made from an over- 
turned fishing-smack, with door and windows 
in its side. But a little farther on a habitation, 
stranger still, by accident attracted his atten- 
tion. He had lain down for a moment's rest 
beside some bushes, and on turning his head 
was surprised to see a small window on a level 
with his eyes. The house was buried in the 
sand; its little door, scarce big enough to per- 
mit a man's body to pass through, was cun- 
ningly hidden by the brush and grass. Who- 
ever lived within was hiding from the world. 

Jogman got upon his knees and thrust the 
brush aside; he pried open the window and 
peered within. He saw a small room, neatly 
furnished with bed and rug and chair. A dres- 
ser stood againt the wall. An electric light 
hung from the ceiling, but no wires were visible 
without. The clothes still lying upon the bed, 
[ 144 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the overturned chair and the remains of a 
lunch upon the table all spoke of a hasty de- 
parture. Perhaps it had been the secret home 
of a German spy. If so, he had decamped 
some time since. 

Dismissing idle speculation, but making a 
mental note for future reference, Jogman rose 
and proceeded on his quest. He soon found 
himself in the streets of that lively little town 
which has been aptly called the "Monte Carlo" 
of northern France. Its big gambling "Ca- 
sinos" had long since been turned to better use, 
and the beds of wounded soldiers now replaced 
the gambling tables and petits chevauoc. 

Hurrying through the "Swiss Village" and 
scarcely taking time to acknowledge the greet- 
ings of a Belgian lassie who waved her hand 
from a shop window as he passed, he entered 
the Cafe Central and seating himself at one 
of the little round tables forthwith called for a 
drink. The barmaid approached him. 

"M'sieur veut?'" she asked. 

"Gimme a glass of Scotch an' soda," Jog- 
man demanded. 

"Ees eet wiskie m'sieur desires?" she queried 
in broken English. 

[145] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Yes — ^whiskey — big glass," said Jogman 
picturing the size with his two hands. 

^'^Oui^ m'sieurJ" 

She filled his glass. He drank it thirstily 
and called for another. Several more followed 
their predecessors, and being now comfortably 
alight he proceeded up street, seeking new 
worlds to conquer. 

The butcher-shop door stood invitingly open. 
Jogman entered unsteadily ; what maudlin idea 
was fermenting in his brain none but himself 
might say. The fat butcher, meataxe in hand 
and pencil behind his ear, approached to take 
his order. 

"Bonjour, monsieur!" he said. 

Jogman placed one hand upon the slab, the 
better to steady the shop which, ignoring the 
law of gravity, was reeling in most unshoply 
fashion. 

"Bone Dewar, yerself !" he cried, incensed at 
being addressed in an unintelligible language. 
"Why th' hell can't ye speak English — like a — 
white man?" 

How often we too have been unreasonably 
irritated by a foreign and incomprehensible 
tongue! Jogman's sense of injustice was pre- 
[ 146 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ternaturally keen just then. The butcher was 
a trifle alarmed at his attitude without in the 
least understanding the cause of complaint. 

''Quest ce que vous voulez, monsieur?'' he 
demanded nervously. 

"Drop that hatchet!" cried his irrational 
customer, making a ster) forward. "Drop it, er 
I'll drop you." 

The unfortunate shopkeeper grasped his 
weapon more firmly still, and stood tremu- 
lously on the defensive. 

"I'll learn ye to do as ye're told!" shouted 
Jogman, and seizing a large knife from the 
slab he rushed at the frightened man who ran 
screaming into the street, with Jogman in hot 
pursuit. 

The sight of a British soldier brandishing a 
meat knife and chasing a fellow citizen along 
the main street was terrifying in the extreme 
to the peaceful denizens of the town. They 
ran shrieking for help, bolting into their shops 
or houses, and barring the doors as though the 
devil himself with a regiment of imps on horse- 
back were at their heels. 

Jogman had cleared the Rue de Londres 
and in the pride of drunken conquest was about 
[ 147 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

to attack the lesser streets, when the Military 
Police hove in sight. Much to his annoyance 
the disturbance interrupted Sergeant Honk in 
a monosyllabic conversation, which he was 
holding with a pretty French girl. He humped 
himself around the corner just in time to see 
the Sergeant of Police take the belligerent 
Jogman by the scruff of the neck and the seat 
of his breeches and heave him into a waiting 
ambulance. 

Honk returned to his Juliette. She had re- 
tired to her balcony and refused to descend. 
Honk lifted his voice appealingly from the 
street : 

"H'l say! Down't ye' be h'afeered — 'e won't 
come back, an' 'e wouldn't 'urt ye when h'I'm 
'ere. Come h'on down!" 

But Juliette was obdurate, and turned a deaf 
ear to his entreaties. 

"Merci — je ne descends point T she re- 
turned. This was about as intelligible to Honk 
as Chinese script, but he understood the shake 
of the head all too well. 

"Blast 'im," he grumbled; "them bloomin' 
blokes what drinks is goin' to 'ave th' 'ole 
bleedin' town h'about our h'ears. Th' gals 
[148] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

won't look at a decent feller soon." And he 
forthwith went to drown his sorrow in a mug of 
beer. 

Honk's complaint was soon verified by the 
facts. Jogman's fame flew from house to 
house, with such infernal rapidity that in less 
than twenty-four hours the French had learned 
an English phrase which it cost our lads sev- 
eral months of good conduct to eradicate. It 
was simple and to the point: "Canadians no 
good!" For weeks afterward it was shouted 
at them every time they entered the village. 
The populace gathered in little groups close to 
their own homes, while a few of the more timid 
locked themselves in and shouted through the 
shutters these same humiliating words. 

As Jogman was brought in to the Guard 
Room, Barker caught a glimpse of him. 

"Well," Barker cried in scathing criticism; 
"the colonel said I wuz th' first t' disgrace th' 
unit. By cripes; I wuzn't th' last. You sure 
made a good job uv it!" 

The colonel was a busy man. His day was 
as varied and colourful as Job's coat. When it 
wasn't the vegetable woman who had to be bar- 
tered with, it was the iceman who sought, with 
[149] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

true French business acumen, to show him why- 
he wasn't really overcharged, although the bill 
was three times what the natives had to pay. 

"Alvred" had been installed as "Inter- 
preter," and throughout all these ridiculous 
and unsatisfactory arguments maintained a 
face as impassive as an English butler at a 
club dinner. 

If the electric light bill to the former tenant 
was eighty francs per month, and our bill was 
three hundred francs for the same period, mon- 
sieur was assured, on word of honour, that the 
party of the first part was undercharged, and 
would forthwith be requested to pay the dif- 
ference. But one thing was certain; the ac- 
count against us was always correct. 

When the colonel had finished these little 
business details he was hurried away to the op- 
erating room. A serious case was awaiting his 
skilled hand. The wounded man, whose thigh 
had been shattered with a rifle bullet, was lying 
upon the table waiting patiently to be ether- 
ised. The colonel stepped over to pass a kindly 
word with him before he was put to sleep. 

"And how are you this morning?" he en- 
quired. 

[150] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Oh, verra weel in me'self," the poor fellow 
answered, with a ready smile, "but ma leg is a 
bit troublesome. I hope ye won't hae t' cut 
it off, sir?" 

"Oh, I think not," the colonel declared re- 
assuringly. "I expect it won't be as serious as 
that." 

"In course, sir, ye'U dae whichever ye think 
best — but I hae a wife and twa wee bairnies at 
hame, an' I were thinkin' as how I'd be better 
able tae dae for them wi' baith ma legs." 

"We'll do our very best to save it," the 
colonel answered. 

In a few minutes we were dressed in our 
white gowns and caps. The X-ray plates were 
brought in and placed in the illuminator for us 
to see the exact damage done. The thigh bone 
was badly splintered for a distance of three 
inches, and one large piece was torn away. We 
hoped to be able to put a steel plate upon the 
bone, and, by screwing it down, draw the frag- 
ments together with some fair chance of having 
them unite. This is a delicate operation, and 
not only demands considerable skill, but the 
operating facilities must be perfect. 

Fortunately our operating room was ideal, 
[151] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

with its white enamelled walls and marble 
basins, its rubber covered floor, the most mod- 
ern of surgical appliances, and, most important 
of all, a staff of highly trained nurses — it was 
as ideal as science could make it. 

With a bright keen knife the incision was 
made down to the bone. Alas! It was hope- 
lessly fractured. For a space of several inches 
there was nothing but tiny fragments, and the 
one long loose piece we had seen in the X-ray 
plate. The colonel turned, and said: 

"What a pity! The space is so large, the 
bone will never regenerate. This leg should 
come off — but I promised to try and save it." 

We discussed the situation for a few mo- 
ments, and finally decided to try an experi- 
ment. The loose piece of bone had not yet 
been thrown away. Might it be used as a 
splint ? We fitted it in between the upper and 
lower fragment — it was just long enough to 
be wedged between. We drilled a hole through 
either end and fastened it firmly with silver 
wire. Would it grow or decay there ? We had 
grave doubts, and time alone would tell. 

Let no one imagine that in the thousands of 
operations performed at the front surgeons 
[152] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

become careless! Every case is a special one; 
every "Tommy" the private patient of the Em- 
pire. The surgeon's responsibility is as great 
— and he feels it, too — in that far-away land, 
as it is at home. 

We put the limb in a plaster cast to hold it 
firm. It had been a clean wound — no infection 
— we had hopes. Six weeks later the bone had 
united fairly well, and in three months Mc- 
Pherson was able to walk! 

But when this operation was done the colo- 
nel's troubles were by no means over for the 
day. It was ten o'clock, and "office" must be 
held. This miniature military "Police-Court" 
sits every morning, with the commanding of- 
ficer as judge. If the court is small, it is by 
no means unimportant. Jogman realised this 
as he stood waiting with the guard and wit- 
nesses in the hall, the day after his great "de- 
bacle." 

The colonel and adjutant were seated in 
due state, being in full "service dress," which, 
as distinct from undress, comprises belt and 
cap. The sergeant-major, in equally dread 
attire, ordered the guard and prisoner (the 
latter being minus both belt and cap — these 
[153] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

appurtenances being denied him) to " 'Shun! 
— Right turn; quick march! — Halt! — Right 
turn!" and the whole squad was in line, await- 
ing "office." 

The colonel's face wore a tired and worried 
expression; his smile had disappeared. The 
sergeant-major announced: 

"Private Jogman, sir!" 

The adjutant read the charge sheet. 
"Number 17462, Private James Jogman, is 
accused with conduct to the prejudice of good 
order and military discipline, in that he, on the 
afternoon of the 21st instant at 4 p.m., in the 
village of Paris-plage, was disorderly." 

The colonel turned to the accused: "Pri- 
vate Jogman, you have heard the charge 
against you, as read. Are you 'guilty' or 'not 
guilty'?" 

"Not guilty, — sir," Jogman muttered 
shamefacedly. 

Sergeant Honk, as a witness, expressed his 
surprise by an almost imperceptible lifting of 
the brush of red hair which did service in lieu 
of eyebrows. The sergeant-major's lip curled 
slightly. The colonel's face remained immo- 
bile. 

[154] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Read the written statement of the Military 
Police, Mr. Adjutant," he commanded. 

The adjutant did so. Each line was cor- 
rect and convincing. The accused, when asked, 
declined to express an opinion on it. 

"Who is the first witness?" the colonel 
asked. 

"Sergeant Honk, sir." 

"Sergeant Honk, what do you know of this 
case?" demanded the Colonel. 

"Sir, h'on the afternoon of the twenty-first, 
at about four o'clock, h'l was talkin' to a lady 
h'on the main street of Paree-plaige, when h'l 
'card th' devil of a row — beg pardon, sir, it 
slipped h'out afore I thought." 

"Go on;" said the colonel drily. "I dare- 
say what you state is quite correct." 

Thus encouraged. Honk resumed with mo- 
rose enthusiasm : "H'l says to th' young lady, 
says h'l, 'Somethin's broke loose 'ere.' The 
women and men was a-screamin' an' runnin' 
into their 'ouses. H'l run to the corner as fast 
as me legs could carry me — " Jogman looked 
instinctively at Honk's queer limbs, as if he 
were about to do a mental calculation of his 
[155] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

speed, but was immediately called to attention 
by the sergeant-major. 

"When h'l got there, h'l see th' prisoner 

goin' like h (h'excuse me, sir) ; well, 'e 

were goin' some, I tell 'e, with a butcher's' knife 
in 'is mit " 

"Did he appear intoxicated?" the colonel in- 
terrupted. 

" 'Orrible drunk, h'l calls it, sir — 'e were 
that same, sir; and afore h'l gets to 'im, th' 
Sergeant o' Police 'ad 'im by th' seat of 'is 
pants an' 'oisted 'im into the waggin!" 

"Have you any questions to put to the wit- 
ness?" the colonel asked. 

"Yes, sir," Jogman replied. "Will Ser- 
geant Honk state, sir, how many beers he had 
inside him when he thought he seed me?" 

The unfortunate Honk turned a deeper hue 
of red, and shuffled uncomfortably from one 
foot to the other. 

"Your question is not allowed," the colonel 
replied sternly. "There is plenty of other evi- 
dence to show that Sergeant Honk's vision was 
reasonably accurate." 

Other witnesses were called, but the evidence 
was all equally damning. At last the colonel 
[156] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

asked the prisoner if he had any further de- 
fence to offer. 

Jogman replied: "Yes, sir. Last month I 
fell from the boiler and my head has been queer 
ever since. When I take a drink I don't know 
what I'm doin'. I don't remember anything 
about all this." 

And the Colonel replied: "This month you 
fell from the water waggon, and your head is 
queerer than before. For the crime of which 
you are guilty you might be shot ; but I intend 
being lenient with you — on one condition — " 

Jogman looked up expectantly. 

" — and that is — that you sign the pledge that 
you will not touch another drop of liquor while 
you are in France." 

Honk looked as if he thought this worse than 
being shot. Jogman glanced furtively at the 
colonel's face; he had never seen him look so 
severe before. It was a big sacrifice, but it 
could not be avoided. He heaved a sigh and 
replied slowly: "I'll — sign — it, sir!" 

"Twenty-eight days First Field Punish- 
ment!" 

"Right turn, quick march!" cried the ser- 
geant-major; and "office" was over for the 
[157] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

day. Remorseful recollection of the pledge he 
had just signed clouded Jogman's brow. 

"He's gone an' spoiled th' whole war fer 
me," he grumbled, as they led him away. 



[ 158 ] 



CHAPTER X 

Reggy might have been a success as Mess 
Secretary, if it hadn't been for the Camembert 
cheese. No one could have remained popular 
long under such a handicap. He had discov- 
ered it in some outlandish shop in Paris-plage. 
The shopkeeper had been ostracised and the 
health authorities called in. 

Some one has said that cheese improves with 
age. I do not propose to indulge in futile 
argument with connoisseurs^ but Reggy' s 
cheese had passed maturity and died an unnat- 
ural death. When he produced its green moss- 
covered remains upon the table, the officers 
were forthwith divided into two factions — 
those who liked cheese and those who did not ; 
and the latter class stated their objections with 
an emphasis and strength which rivalled the 
Camembert. 

Corporal Granger had charge of the Mess. 
He was a quiet, gentlemanly little chap who 
said little, thought much, and smoked when he 
[159] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

had a chance. He opened the box before din- 
ner, took a whiff which distorted his face, and 
silently passed the box to his assistants. 

Wilson and Rene — a French-Canadian lad 
— wrinkled their noses in unison over it; then 
Wilson drawled: 

"Smells — like a — disease — we uster have — 
in the ward upstairs." 

But Rene's atavistic sense approved the 
cheese. "Dat's bon fromage," he declaimed 
emphatically. "Cheese ain't good until it 
smells like dat." 

"Then folks to home eats a lot what's bad 
fer them — don't they?" Wilson retorted, with 
mild satire; "an' them so healthy too!" 

Rene disdained controversy, and with unruf- 
fled dignity continued laying the table. Dur- 
ing the first few months of our labours he had 
been orderly to no less a person than the 
senior major — hence his feeling of supe- 
riority. But he and the Second-in-Command 
hadn't always agreed; the senior major had 
a penchant for collecting excess baggage, 
and it behooved his unfortunate batman to 
pack, unpack and handle liis ever-increasing 
number of boxes and bags. By the time we 
[160] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

reached Boulogne these had become a great 
burden. Rene looked ruefully down upon it 
before he started to lift it, piece by piece, into 
the lorrie. 

"Ba gosh!" he exclaimed, in perspiring re- 
monstrance, "I hope de war don' last too long 
— er it'll take one whole train to move de ma- 
jor's bag-gage!" 

Bene was impressionable and had all the ro- 
mantic instinct of the true Frenchman. As I 
watched him decorating the table with flowers 
— we were to have company that night, and it 
was to be an event of unusual importance to 
us — my recollection carried me back to a bleak 
October night on Salisbury Plain. It was 
scarcely nine p.m., but I had turned in and lay 
wrapped in my sleeping bag, reading by the 
light of a candle propped on a cocoa tin. Rene 
had just returned from "three days' leave," 
having travelled over fifty miles to see a lit- 
tle girl whose face had haunted him for weeks. 
He was flushed with excitement and had to un- 
burden his heart to some one. He stepped into 
my tent for a moment, the rain running off his 
cap and coat in little rivulets onto the floor. 

"I'm afraid you're in love, Rene," I teased, 
[ 161 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

after he had given me a glowing account of his 
trip. 

"I t'ink dat's right," he exclaimed, with 
sparkling eyes. "Why, dat's de purtiest gal 
what I ever see. Dose arms of hers! Gee, 
dere ain't lilies so white like dat, an' de roses 
of her cheeks ! — every time I meet her, I see her 
like more kinds of flowers!" 

"But you'll see another bud next week, 
Rene," I interjected, "and forget all about this 
dainty little flower." 

"Me forget? Non!" he declared, with con- 
viction — and then a wistful look crept into his 
big brown eyes. He sat upon the edge of 
Reggy's cot opposite and reminiscently 
smoothed the hair off his brow before he con- 
tinued : 

"Sometime wen you're up de Gat'-ineau at 
home, an' de lumbermen free de logs in de ri- 
viere, you see dem float so peaceful down de 
stream. De water is run so slow an' quiet you 
don' see no movement dere ; but bimeby de 
riviere go lil' faster, de ripples wash de banks, 
de logs move swifter an' more swift until dey 
come above de falls — dey fall, crash, boom! 
One gets stuck, ar^nuder an' annuder; dey 
[162] 




KENE HAD RISEN IN THE EXCITEMENT OF HIS DESCRIPTION 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

jam — dey pile up higher an' more high — ^more 
hun'reds of logs come down, an' jam an' jam. 
De water can't pass — it overflow de bank an' 
spread out in a great lake over de fields." 

Rene had risen in the excitement of his de- 
scription. The candle light shone faintly upon 
his broad shoulders and handsome, inspired 
face. His right arm was extended in harmony 
with the vehemence of his description. He 
continued more softly ; 

"Dat riviere is me; de falls is my liF gal at 
de turnin' -point of my life, an' de great lake 
is my love which has burst over de fields of my 
fancy an' freshes all de dry places. I can't tell 
you how I love dat gal — sometimes I tink — 
maybe — I marry her some day." 

At this juncture the senior major had 
thrust his head inside the tent. 

"Rene," he called sternly, "get back to your 
work ! Wash my rubber boots and keep an eye 
on the tent 'til I return." 

And poor Rene, thus rudely brought to 
earth, had crept silently away. 

At seven-thirty p.m., the shrill call of the 
bugle sounded "Officers' Mess": 
[163] 



THE FIRST CANiy3IANS IN FSANCE 

"The officers' wives get pudding and pies. 
The soldiers' wives get skilly — " 

It is the one call wliidi every officer, senior or 
junior, knows by heart, and answers promptly. 

A mess dinner is a parade, and is conducted 
with all the pomp and dignity peculiar to a 
Chinese wedding. Woe betide the untrained 
"sub" who dares seat himself before the Com- 
manding Officer has taken his place at the cen- 
tre of the table! For the first time since our 
arrival in France, we were to be honoured with 
the presence of several ladies, and the whole 
mess was in a state of excitement compatible 
with the seriousness of such an occasion. It 
was so long since any of us had dined under 
the charming, but restraining, influence of the 
fair sex that, as Reggy afterward remarked, 
he was in a condition bordering on nervous 
prostration lest he forget to eat the ice cream 
with his fork, or, worse still, "butter" his bread 
with pate de fois gras. 

Reggy had other worries on his mind as well. 
He had been taken aside early, and solemnly 
warned that if he, his heirs, executors or as- 
signs, dared to bring forth upon the table so 
[ 164] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FEANCE 

much as a smell of his ill-favoured cheese, he 
would be led out upon the sand dunes at early 
dawn and shot. This precaution having been 
duly taken, he was permitted to retire to the 
pantry with Fraser and Corporal Granger, 
and amuse himself making thirty Bronx cock- 
tails for our express delectation. Promptly, 
as the last note of the bugle died away, the 
colonel and matron ushered our fair guests 
into the Mess Room. 

Had our long separation from the beautiful 
women of Canada whetted our sense of appre- 
ciation? Or was it some dim recollection of an 
almost-forgotten social world which stimulated 
our imagination? Certainly no more exquisite 
representatives of the, to us, long-lost tribe of 
lovely women ever graced a Mess Room in 
France ! 

After the customary introductions had 
taken place, the twenty-five officers who now 
comprised our Mess distributed themselves in 
various awkward positions about the chairs of 
the five ladies — all the rest of our chairs were 
at the table — each trying vainly to give himself 
that appearance of graceful ease which indi- 
[ 165 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

cates that the entertainment of grandes 
dames is our chief sport in Canada. 

What a dreadful encumbrance one's hands 
are on such an occasion! A mihtary uniform 
does not take kindly to having its wearer's 
hands thrust deeply into his breeches pockets, 
and, as every one knows, this is the only way 
to feel at ease when addressing a lady in her 
evening gown — if you fold your hands unos- 
tentatiously behind your back, it hampers your 
powers of repartee. 

Lady Danby, who conducted a Ked Cross 
Hospital in a near-by town, appreciated our 
embarrassment, and did her best to make us 
feel at home. 

"What a delightful Mess Room!" she ex- 
claimed, as her tall, lithesome figure sank into 
an arm chair. "It must be so restful and re- 
freshing after those dreadful operations!" 

"Captain Reggy finds it very restful in- 
deed," Burnham volunteered mischievously; 
"he spends a great deal of his time here — ^mix- 
ing drinks." 

"Ah! — and he does them so very well too," 
exclaimed Madame Cuillard, with a flash of 
her beautiful dark eyes toward the hero of the 
[ 166 ] 



THE FIRST CANiU)IANS IN FRANCE 

moment, and lifting her glass to him in gra- 
cious compliment. "He is a man after my own 
heart." 

"Madam, you flatter me," Reggy murmured, 
with a low bow, "and yet I fear I am not the 
first who has been 'after' such a kindly heart?" 

"Nor you shall not be the last, I hope," the 
little widow returned, with a rippling laugh. 
"Still, 'Weak heart never won' — ah, non — I 
am forgetting my English — let it pass. A 
heart is so easy to be lost in France — you must 
be careful." 

Eraser's Gibsonian figure towered above the 
others as he and Father Bonsecour and the 
senior major stood chatting with two Cana- 
dian guests. The girls made a pretty contrast, 
petite, dainty and vivacious ; the one with blue- 
black hair and large soft brown eyes, the other 
fair as an angel, with hair of finely spun gold 
and eyes as blue as the sea over the dunes. 

"May I take your glasses?" Eraser queried. 

"Thank you, by all means," said the little 
brunette smilingly. "There's nothing I re- 
gret more than an empty glass or a flower that 
is dead." 

"The former leaves little to hope, and the 
[167] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

latter hopes little to leaf," asserted the senior 
major sententiously, animated by the beauty 
of our guests. 

"What a dreadful pun. Major Baldwin!" 
cried the pretty blonde. "You deserve five 
days C. B.!" 

"Thank Heaven," laughed the major, "we 
don't always get our deserts! We incorrigi- 
bles may still, for a moment 

" 'Take the cash and let the credit go. 
Nor heed the rumble of the distant drum'!" 

But the Colonel interrupted these delightful 
inanities by offering his arm to Lady Danby 
and showing her to the seat of honour on his 
right. The other ladies were distributed as 
impartially as was possible amongst the re- 
maining twenty-four of us. We stood for a 
moment with bowed heads while our chaplain 
repeated that concise but effective military 
grace : 

"For what we are about to receive, thank 
God !" and then we took our seats. 

The dinner was progressing splendidly. 
Wilson hadn't spilled the soup; Rene hadn't 
[168] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

tripped over the rug; course after course had 
proceeded under Granger's worried eye with 
daintiness and despatch. The sole meu- 
niere was done to a turn, the roast pheasant 
and asparagus had heen voted superb, and the 
ice-cold salad a refreshing interlude. Even 
the plum pudding, with its flaming sauce, had 
been transported without accident to the 
guests, when Reggy beckoned with a motion 
of the head to Granger, and whispered some- 
thing in his ear. 

Granger was the best lad in the world when 
he wasn't disturbed, but if he became excited 
anything might happen. The order was trans- 
mitted to Rene, and in a moment the murder 
was out. Whether through misunderstanding, 
or Rene's secret pride in its possession, Reggy's 
cheese had been excavated, and before it was 
possible to interfere, its carcase was upon the 
table! 

The scent of hyacinth and lilies-of-the-val- 
ley faded on the instant ; the delicate charm of 
poudre de riz was obliterated and all the de- 
licious odours of the meal were at once sub- 
merged in that wonderful, pungent, all-em- 
bracing emanation from the cheese. 
[ 169 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

' The colonel turned first red, then pale. He 
cast an appealing glance at Reggy — it was too 
late. The rest of us glared surreptitiously and 
silently at the culprit. An inspiration seized 
him. Unobserved, he signalled the mess pres- 
ident, who rose to his feet on the instant. 

"Mr. Vice — The King!" he commanded. 

"Ladies and gentlemen — The King!" came 
the formal but inspiring reply. 

The cheese was forgotten. We were upon 
our feet, and lifting our glasses we drank to 
our sovereign. Cigars and cigarettes were 
passed around, and we waited patiently until 
the colonel lighted his cigar — for no one 
smokes at mess until the O. C. has set the ex- 
ample, or given his permission. The offending 
element had been quickly but quietly removed 
from the table, and once more peace and hap- 
piness prevailed. 

But Reggy 's fate as Mess Secretary was 
sealed! 



1 170 ] 



CHAPTER XI 

The first line of a certain popular song em- 
phasises a bold and truthful platitude, namely : 
"The World's growing older each day." The 
incontrovertible fact is plumped unexpectedly 
before us, and blocks our only exit down the 
passage of argument. If it had read: "The 
World's growing smaller each day," we might 
have run to our text-book of Elementary Phys- 
ics, and, placing a stubby but argumentative 
forefinger on the Law of the Indestructibility 
of Matter, have proved it a falsehood of tl ■ 
l^%th, degree. But, of course, this must all have 
happened before the War. Every one kROv: 
now — every Tommy can tell you — that the 
world is really and truly smaller; for, if not, 
how is it he meets Bill, or Jake, or Harry on 
the streets of Poperinghe or Dickihusch? He 
knows instinctively that the world is shrink- 
ing, and Halifax and Vancouver may be found 
any time jumbled together in a little Belgian 
village on the wrong side of the Atlantic. 
[171] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

I hadn't seen Jack Wellcombe for twenty- 
five years — we had been school chums together 
- — and his name had ahnost faded from the 
pages of my mind ; so that on entering the hos- 
pital the morning after Reggy's last dinner, I 
received a slight shock as I lifted a new chart 
from the table and saw this name staring up 
at me: 

"Captain J. Wellcombe. Royal Army Med- 
ical Corps." 

Had the world really become so small? 
Could a quarter century be bridged in an in- 
stant? I seemed to see the little old stone 
schoolhouse once again ; its low-ceilinged room, 
the big box-stove, the well-hacked seats, and 
the rows of little boys and girls bowed over 
their greasy slates. The scent of midday 
lunches stowed away floated back to me in 
memory's dream, and the haw-tree brushed its 
leaves against the window pane. I saw Jack 
as he was then, with frank blue eyes and wav- 
ing golden hair — courteous, genial and big- 
hearted, beloved by all; and I wondered as I 
stood there if by any chance this might be he. 
[172] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 



The nursing sister awoke me from this rev- 
erie: "He arrived in the early morning," she 
volunteered, "but as he was not seriously hurt 
I didn't call you, and dressed the wound my- 
self." 

It was with a feeling of nervous tension and 
expectancy that I followed her down the hall 
to his room and entered. Alas! the world is 
full of disappointments. It was not Jack — 
this dignified man with the touch of grey 
about the temples — but still the resemblance 
grew stronger, the kindly blue eyes, the same 
winsome smile — I wondered still. 

We passed the customary greetings and 
chatted commonplaces for a few moments, and 
all the time his face wore an expression of puz- 
zled enquiry, as if he too were trying to recall 
some faint memory from the past. At last I 
blurted out: 

"Are you by any chance related to Jack 
Wellcombe, of K ?" 

"A very close relation," he returned laugh- 
ingly. "I am his dearest friend; in fact — him- 
self. And you — you are Mac — dear old Mac !" 
he cried, stretching out both hands to me in his 
[173] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

impetuous, warm-hearted way. I could have 
hugged him, I was so glad to see him ! 

"What a queer game is Life!" he exclaimed 
a moment later. "For years you and I have 
been shaken about, with many a jolt, in the 
dice-box of the world, and now, like two Jacks, 
we are once more tossed together upon the 
Table of Fate!" 

While we were chatting over old times, the 
nurse unwound his bandages. 

"I hope it doesn't hurt too much?" I asked 
him, as I examined his wound preparatory to 
dressing it. 

"It's a mere scratch," he returned lightly; 
"a piece of shrapnel through the flesh of the 
thigh ; but the surgeon at the Field Ambulance 
thought I should come back to hospital for a 
week or two. Things are rather noisy around 
Ypres." 

"But what possessed you to join the R. A. 
M. C?" I enquired. "You should be with the 
Canadians." 

He laughed. "Oh, you chaps were too long 
in coming over. I'd have lost three whole 
months of the war. I was in England when it 
[174] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

broke out, and came over with the First Expe- 
ditionary Force." 

"You were in the retreat from Mons, then!" 
I exclaimed in envious admiration. 

"Every foot of it," he rephed. "That was 
a fight, you may well believe. But the Huns 
didn't have it all their own way. I saw a 
strange scrap one day between a French and a 
German battalion. The Huns sprang sudden- 
ly out of an ambush and were upon the French 
with the bayonet before you could catch your 
breath. Taken by surprise, the 'poilus' ran for 
all they were worth for about a quarter of a mile 
— and they are some sprinters too — the Huns 
following them, shouting like demons. Sudden- 
ly the French stopped — they must have been 
running to get their second wind — wheeled 
about, and with fixed bayonets charged back 
like a streak of forked lightning through the 
Germans. You never saw such a surprised and 
rattled bunch of Huns since you were born. 
If it hadn't been so awful I could have shrieked 
with laughter. But the French weren't satis- 
fied with going through them once ; they turned 
about and came back at them again, like a regi- 
ment of cavalry. The Huns seemed stupefied 
[175] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

with amazement and terror; they fought like 
men in a daze, and very few ever got back to 
tell the story of the 'cowardly French who ran 
away' ! " 

"We, too, have underestimated the French, 
I'm afraid," I said. "We are beginning to 
realise their possibilities as a fighting force, 
and the Germans aren't yet awake to their 
strength and determination." 

"They fought well at the battle of the 
Marne," Jack remarked. "It makes me smile 
still as I picture a fat little French officer with 
drawn sword — God only knows what he in- 
tended doing with it — who stood behind a hay- 
stack waving to his men to come on. He was 
absolutely fearless. Again and again he 
charged up that steep hill with the men, and 
when they couldn't make it, back he would 
come to hide behind his hay-stack and wait 
until he could induce them to try it again. 
About the fifth attack they succeeded and went 
on over the hill." 

I questioned him about the battle of Ypres. 
(This, of course, was the first battle of Ypres 
— not that in which the Canadians distin- 
guished themselves.) 

[176] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"It was fast work at 'Wipers,' " he said, 
"with shells falling into the town like a thou- 
sand roaring devils. They dropped one into 
the signaller's billet. It tore a hole in the side 
of the building large enough to march an ele- 
phant through, and killed every mother's son 
of them. A 'Jack Johnson' came through the 
roof of our hospital and dropped into the ward 
— exit ward ! There wasn't a bed left standing. 
Luckily we had removed most of the patients 
into the cellar — but those who were left are 
still there, buried in the ruins." 

"The usual German respect for the Red 
Cross!" I commented bitterly. 

"The flag makes a good mark for their ar- 
tillery," he returned, with a smile; "they al- 
ways look for us." 

"You've had many narrow squeaks, I pre- 
sume?" 

He laughed merrily. "So narrow that if I 
had had a big stomach it might have been whit- 
tled down to sylph-like proportions. I was 
standing one day close to a dug-out, talking to 
two brother officers. The 'Whizz-Bangs' and 
'Coal Boxes' were sizzling over from time to 
time, but not especially close. An old friend of 
[177] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

mine" (Jack always had an "old friend" every- 
where!) "stuck his head out of the dug-out and 
shouted up to me: 

" 'Drop in and have a drink, Jack — the 
water's fine!' 

"I told him I was never thirsty in the morn- 
ings. He looked surprised, but called back 
again : 

" 'If you'll do me the honour to descend, I'll 
make you a fine long John Collins !' 

" 'Well, well,' I said, 'as you're so kind and 
such a persistent beggar, I'll humour you.' The 
other two officers said they wouldn't go in, and 
so I climbed down into his dug-out and sat 
down. 

"Just as I did so a big shell came — bang! — 
right where I had been standing. We sprang 
to our feet and looked out — the poor chaps I 
had just left had been hterally blown to 
pieces !" 

He lay pensively silent for a moment or two, 
and there was a suspicious glint of moisture in 
his eyes as he turned his face toward the wall. 
Then he turned on his side once more, and 
smiling brightly up at me, murmured : 

"It's been a great lesson to me!" 
[178] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"In what way?" I queried. 

"Never to refuse a drink!" 

It will take more than a world's war to de- 
press Jack. His cork-like spirit will always 
make him pop up serene to the surface of the 
whirlpool of life. 

"You know the Guild Hall at Wipers?" he 
exclaimed a moment later. 

"No; I haven't been to the actual firing line 
yet," I returned. "The only time we realise 
there is a war back here is when the trains of 
wounded' come in ; or, on a stormy night, when 
the wind blows fiercely from the trenches, and 
the boom of the great guns is driven here inter- 
mittently with the gusts." 

"As soon as I can stand upon this peg of 
mine, you and the colonel and I will motor up 
and see it all," he declared, with assurance. 

"Agreed!" I cried. "You may now feel con- 
fident of a speedy recovery. But tell me more 
about 'Wipers.' " 

He raised himself on one elbow, and com- 
menced reminiscently : "Our dear old colonel 
was billeted in the tenement row which used to 
be in the square of Ypres, close to the Guild 
[ 179 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Hall. We had been shelled out of place after 
place, but for several days lately Fritzie had 
left us in peace. It was too good to last long. 
One night they started chucking big shells into 
the cathedral and what was left of the square. 
I counted fifty-seven falling over and around 
the colonel's billet. I began to suspect the 
place. Taken as an exhibition of fire-works, it 
was a success, but as a health resort it had de- 
fects. 

"It was about eleven o'clock, and some of the 
houses in the row had already been hit. Ye 
gods! Vesuvius in its balmiest days was like 
a Chinese lantern to this — for a second, in a 
lull, you would hear the whine of a big shell; 
then, crash! it went into a building, and shell 
and house went up together in one frightful 
smash-up. 

"I went over to wake the old boy, as he 
showed no symptoms of having been disturbed. 
It was useless to rap — there was such an in- 
fernal racket with shells bursting, roofs top- 
pling in and walls falling out. I stumbled up 
the dark stairs to his room. He was sound 
asleep — think of it! I spoke to him, but he 
[180] 




"how can you?" she cried involuntarily, 'how can a little 
lad like you bear to kill men with a bayonet?" 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

didn't wake; so I shook him gently by the 
shoulder and he opened his eyes. 

"'Hello, Wellcombe !' he growled, in his 
rough but genial way. 'What the devil brings 
you prowling around at this time of night?' 

"I told him that I thought the billet was be- 
coming a trifle unsafe, as some of the other 
houses in the row had already been hit. 

" 'Is that all you came to tell me?' he asked, 
with indifference. 

"I said it seemed sufficient to me, and told 
him we had no wish to lose him. 

" 'Well, well,' he came back at me, but not 
unkindly, 'and you woke me out of a sound 
sleep to tell me this! Go and get me a drink 
and then run along like a good fellow and go 
to bed.' 

"And after the old chap had his drink he 
thanked me, turned over in bed, and I believe 
was sound asleep again before I got out of the 
house — while a continual hell of fire and shells 
tore the guts out of the town about him ! When 
I went back in the morning, there was only 
one house left standing in that row — the colo- 
nel's. The others were a crumpled mess of 
bricks and mortar !" 

i.[isr] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

I chatted with him as long as I could, and 
then, telling him I would drop in later in the 
day, continued my rounds on the wards. 

As we entered one of the smaller rooms, I 
noticed a bright-eyed, red-cheeked Scotch lad, 
not more than seventeen years of age, seated 
upon his cot. He was chatting animatedly 
with several others, but sprang to attention as 
we approached. The nurse unwound the band- 
ages and showed me his wound — a bayonet cut 
across the palm. We had already heard from 
bis comrades that this slip of a boy, with the 
smiling eyes and ringing laugh, was one of the 
finest bayonet fighters in his battalion, and had 
to his credit a string of German scalps that 
would make a Pawnee Chief green with envy. 
His wound was the result of grasping his op- 
ponent's bayonet during one of these fights. 

The nurse looked up at the boyish face — the 
big blue eyes and laughing mouth — he did seem 
such a child! 

"How can you," she cried involuntarily; 
"how can a little lad like you bear to kill men 
with a bayonet?" 

His lips parted over his even white teeth in 
a broader smile than ever, but he flushed deeply 
[182] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

as he exclaimed: "Oh, ma'm, when ye're in a 
charge an' ye see them steekin' yer best chums 
— ye go fair mad — everything turns red afore 
ye, an' ye could kill the whole bleedin' lot!" 

"Bravo!" cried the little nurse enthusiasti- 
cally, clapping her hands — she had been car- 
ried away, as I admit I too was, bj^ his sincer- 
ity and vehemence. "May you live long and 
grow to be a great man, as you deserve !" 

After dressing his hand and the wounds of 
the others, we passed on into the next room, 
where a poor fellow, shot through the hip, lay 
suffering in heroic silence. 

It required three of us to do his dressing, 
because, on account of the peculiar position of 
the wound, he had to be turned upon his side 
each time, and with a fractured hip this was a 
process of great difficulty. This wonderful war 
has produced its many heroes, but when the 
great Recorder above opens His book at 
doomsday. He will find the name of William 
Hoare written large on the pages of valour. 

Throughout the painful dressing Nursing 

Sister Dolly stood at his head, and, placing her 

strong little arms about his great shoulders 

would tell him to lift himself by her; and 

[ 183 1 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Hoare would gratefully lock his hands behind 
her neck and help to raise himself. What he 
suffered, God only knows! He made no sign 
of complaint, but gritted his teeth together like 
a vise and never spoke until the operation was 
over. Beads of sweat stood upon his brow, and 
his face was pale, but no groan had escaped. 

"Have a little brandy, Hoare," Sister Dolly 
coaxed; "it'll do you good — you look so white." 
Tears of sympathy stood in her eyes, but 
Hoare smiled bravely up at her and said 
simply : 

"Thank you — it would be welcome." 

"You are a splendid soldier, Hoare," I re- 
marked, as Sister Dolly hurried away for the 
stimulant. 

"I'm not really a soldier, sir. I've only been 
a few months in the ranks," he answered. "I'm 
a 'bus driver in London." 

I thought to myself : "A 'bus driver in Lon- 
don — but a hero of heroes in France!" 

He raised his head as Sister Dolly held the 
glass gently to his lips. "You are very kind," 
he murmured gratefully. "I'm a deal of trou- 
ble to you." 

The little sister smiled sadly and shook her 
[184] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

head, then without a word dashed from the 
room. 

"I'd have burst out crying — if I'd stayed 
another minute," she exclaimed impetuously, 
when I met her a moment later in the hall. 
"I'm a fool, I know — I'm too chicken-hearted 
to be a nurse." 

"You're a real woman," I ejaculated in gen- 
uine admiration; "the world is the better be- 
cause you were born!" 

We then visited the large ward. There were 
forty patients in it, most of them looking as 
jolly as if hospital life were one of the most 
amusing experiences in the world. Some were 
reading, some playing cribbage, some of those 
with minor wounds were helping about the 
ward, and all were smoking. 

But one, who had just arrived, looked dan- 
gerously ill. We approached his bed, his green- 
ish pallor was alarming. I felt for his pulse — 
it had disappeared. We gave him a hypoder- 
mic at once to stimulate him, but we knew all 
too well he was far beyond human aid. He 
smiled slightly as I spoke to him. His mind 
was clear, with that preternatural clearness 
which heralds death. I sat down beside his 
[185] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

bed — it was screened off from the others — and 
took his hand. 

"Have you any friends to whom you wish to 
send a message?" I asked him gently. 

"Why, doctor," he enquired, with a keenness 
of perception that was embarrassing, and look- 
ing up at me with a glance of slight surprise, 
"do you think I am going to die?" 

"You are very ill indeed," I replied hesitat- 
ingty, "and I think it would be well, if there is 
some one in whom you are specially interested, 
that you should write at once." 

He smiled faintly again as he looked me in 
the eye and answered: "There is only one per- 
son in the world who concerns me deeply — ^my 
mother;" he turned his head away an instant, 
"I have already written her. How long do you 
think I have to live?" 

Even when one can answer, this is always 
the most awkward question in the world. No 
one ever gets accustomed to pronouncing a 
death sentence. I shook my head sadly and 
replied: "I cannot tell you positively — but 1 
fear you have only a few hours more." 

"Well, well," he said somewhat indifferently, 
and then his voice became more interested. He 
[186] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

turned back and asked suddenly: "By the way, 
will you grant me a favour?" 

*'I assured him I would do anything in my 
power; but I was totally unprepared for his 
request. He spoke eagerly: 

"Then, may I have a bowl of rice pudding?" 

His sang-froid startled me beyond speech. 
Death to him was a matter of small moment — 
but hunger was serious. We got him his pud- 
ding. He ate it with relish, and two hours 
later, with a cigarette between his lips, his 
brave eyes closed forever. 

There was a bustle in the hospital that after- 
noon. We had orders to send two hundred 
patients to England. The boys were in a state 
of happy excitement; those who could walk 
hurrying down to the pack-stores and return- 
ing with all sorts of wrinkled tunics and 
breeches, and with old boots and caps. Some- 
times an Irishman secured a kilt, and a "kiltie," 
much to his annoyance, was obliged to wear 
breeches. For when men from hospital were 
returning to England, although all their 
clothes were sterilised, no special effort was 
made in those days to return them their own. 
New clothes were issued at home. Those pa- 
[ 187 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

tients who were unable to get up were dressed 
in bed, their heads were encased in woollen 
toques, big thick bed-socks were drawn over 
their feet to keep them warm, and they were 
rolled in blankets and placed in the hall on 
stretchers, ready to depart. 

The nurses had slaved for hours. Every pa- 
tient had been carefully bathed, his hands and 
face were spotlessly clean, his wounds were 
freshly dressed and he was wrapped up so 
snugly that the loving eye of a mother could 
have found no fault. 

The ambulances were at the door once more 
— but on a different mission this time — and the 
boys, all smiles and chatter, were carried out 
upon their stretchers or clambered gleefully 
down the stairs. Nurses, officers and men were 
at the door saying good-bye to their patients. 
Murmured words of thanks or gratitude on the 
one hand, and warmest well wishes on the 
other were exchanged, and at last, with much 
waving of caps and handkerchiefs, the convoy 
of ambulances started for the steamer at Bou- 
logne, carrying the happy, care-free loads of 
boys another stage toward home, or, in Tom- 
my's own vernacular — toward "Blighty." 
[188] 



CHAPTER XII 

It was a wild fight the day the Germans 
broke through at Givenchy; and the Bosches 
were wilder still when, finding themselves in 
the town, they were in considerable doubt what 
to do with it. Of course it would have been 
perfectly all right if the rest of their corps had 
followed on and backed up the intrepid storm- 
ers. But the enemy had reckoned without his 
host, and Tommy decided that such visitors 
should be given a warm reception. In fact, 
they went so far in their efforts at hospitality 
that they entirely surrounded their guests and 
closed the breech behind them, in order that 
they might receive no "draft" from the rear. 

Having thus graciously encompassed them, 
Tommy proceeded to kill them with kindness, 
rifles, bayonets and hand grenades. The Ger- 
mans, greatly bewildered by this flattering re- 
ception, would fain have rested on the laurels 
already won. Tommy, however, insisted on 
[189] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

entertaining them still further, and at last, de- 
spairing of ever satisfying such a busy host, 
the visitors threw down their arms and capitu- 
lated. 

When we opened the doors of the Ambu- 
lance Train at Etaples and, instead of the cus- 
tomary khaki, saw the drab coats and the red- 
banded skull caps, we were almost as surprised 
as the Germans had been the day before. 

They were a sorry-looking lot. Dazed and 
bewildered by their astonishing defeat, they 
looked like men still under the influence of a 
narcotic. As they got slowly down from the 
coaches, their heads or arms in bandages, they 
looked sick — very sick indeed; but it was not 
so much with an illness of the body as an ill- 
ness of the mind. They stood together, silent 
and sullen, seeming to expect ill-treatment at 
our hands. 

There is so little of the true "sport" in the 
German composition that they cannot under- 
stand that to the British war is still a game and, 
when the contest is over, ill-feeling ceases. We 
bore no more enmity toward these hapless vic- 
tims of a malevolent militarism than as if they 
had been helpless waifs cast upon our charity. 
[190] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

This is not a matter for self-praise ; it is the 
inevitable result of a wholesome and broad- 
minded upbringing. God knows these defeat- 
ed men looked sufficiently depressed and mean 
without our adding to their brimming cup of 
sorrow ! 

Waiving prejudice for the moment and look- 
ing at them with an impartial eye, what did we 
see? Stripped of their accoutrements of war, 
they looked quiet and inoif ensive enough, but 
the closely shaven heads gave them the ap- 
pearance of criminals. In spite of this handi- 
cap some looked to be decent, reliable chaps, 
not so very different from our own men. Some 
were dark and short of stature ; some were tall, 
broad-shouldered and strong. Some had the 
fair hair and blue eyes which we always asso- 
ciate with the Saxon. But there were those 
too whose low brows, irregular features and 
cruel eyes indicated an unmistakable moral de- 
generacy which boded no one good. 

One, a corporal, who spoke English and 
acted as interpreter for his fellows, presented a 
countenance of such striking malignancy and 
low cunning that the mere contemplation of 
his ugly features — the long nose, receding fore- 
[ 191 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

head and sneaky grey eyes — ^impressed one 
with an uneasy feeling that no dastardly deed 
would be beneath him. Upon request, he herded 
his companions into the ambulances, and as 
they were, with a few exceptions, but slightly 
wounded, a strong guard was sent to the hos- 
pital with them to see that they should do no 
mischief nor attempt to escape upon the way. 

When they arrived at the hospital and were 
drawn up in line in the admittance hall, it was 
perhaps a pardonable curiosity which prompted 
the orderlies to crowd around and get a glimpse 
of the first German prisoners they had ever 
seen. The Bosche corporal took his stand be- 
side the registrar's desk and called out, in 
English, the names, numbers and regiments of 
each of the prisoners. Amongst them were 
Prussians, Bavarians and German Poles. It 
is difficult to say how this medley of nationali- 
ties came to be together. 

Sergeant Honk was in the forefront among 
the orderlies, and perhaps that was the reason 
he was drawn still further into the limelight. 
For suddenly a prisoner, putting his hand into 
the pocket of his coat, drew forth a hand gre- 
nade, and thrust it at him. Honk was startled, 
[192] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and, jerking his half -extended hand away with 
great expedition, backed hastily from the evil- 
looking bomb. 

" 'Ere you!" he gasped excitedly, "wot the 
dooce are ye h'up to now?" 

^^Ein "souvenir^ fiir Ihnen/" said the Ger- 
man, astonished at Honk's precipitate retreat. 
Honk understood only the one word, but that 
was enough. 

"H'l down't want any damn dangerous sou- 
venir like that!" he returned wrathfully. "Put 
ith'on thetyble!" 

The German, gathering his meaning from 
his actions rather than Honk's words, did as 
he was bidden, and stepped back into line. 

"The bleedin' fool might 'a' blowed h'up the 
'ole hospital," he declaimed peevishly to his 
companions, "whippin' out 'is blimed h'infer- 
nal machine like that; blessed if h'l wouldn't 
'a' put 'im in the clink fer h'it." 

Burnham now ordered our men to get about 
their business and proceeded with the allotment 
of beds for the prisoners. A slight difficulty 
arose at this point, as to their disposal. The 
colonel had decided to put them all in one 
ward ; but, as we had no armed guard, we 
[ 193 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

thought they would be safer if distributed in 
the several rooms. A number of them were so 
slightly wounded that, if segregated in one 
room, they might easily concoct schemes for 
escape or even offence. At the same time, by 
decentralising them, they would not only be 
under surveillance by the ward orderlies, but 
by the British Tonmiies as well, and there 
would be little opportunity for collusion. This 
plan was finally adopted. The Prussians fell 
to Reggy's lot ; the Bavarians to mine, and the 
balance were divided amongst the different 
wards. 

The next morning Reggy, who had studied 
in Berlin and spoke excellent German, when 
making his rounds approached the bed of a 
tall, fair-haired prisoner, whose steely blue eyes 
contained no hint of welcome, and who, in spite 
of his good treatment, was still openly suspi- 
cious of us. 

After bidding him guten Morgen and dress- 
ing his wound — which was in the place we 
would have liked to see all Germans "get it," 
viz. : the neck, Reggy enquired : 

"What do you think of the war? Do you 
still think you are going to win?" 
r 194 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The Prussian looked up with a half smile 
and the suspicion of a sneer curled his lip. "Is 
there any doubt about it?" he returned. 

"There should be considerable doubt in your 
minds," Reggy answered warmly. 

"We shall win," the prisoner said, with im- 
perturbable coolness and assurance; "the war 
has only commenced, as far as we are con- 
cerned." 

"But you will be starved out, if you're not 
beaten otherwise," Reggy continued. 

The shortage of food in Germany was one 
of our early delusions about the war. The 
Prussian laughed amusedly — not by any means 
a pleasant laugh. 

"If we do not grow a grain," he replied 
scornfully, "we have sufficient food stored 
away to last us for three years. For the past 
ten years every city in Germany has kept a 
three-year supply stored, and only the oldest 
crop has been used annually." An illuminat- 
ing confession ! 

"But you will run short of men," Reggy per- 
sisted. 

His patient smiled again at our innocence. 
"We have ten million trained soldiers in re- 
[ 195 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

serve, who have not yet been called up," he an- 
swered calmly. 

We were not prepared at the time to dis- 
pute the veracity of these statements, although 
later events seem to have corroborated them. 

There was a grim heroism about this cold- 
blooded man, for when he was placed upon the 
operating table, although he must have suf- 
fered greatly while the deeply embedded bul- 
let was being extracted under cocaine, he per- 
mitted no groan or complaint to escape his lips. 
However much we may hate the Prussians, or 
loathe their materialistic and unsentimental at- 
titude toward their fellow human beings, if 
this man was a sample, they are as well pre- 
pared to suffer as to inflict pain. Proud, dis- 
dainful and bitter, one could not help but 
feel that he hated us so thoroughly that should 
the opportunity have occurred, he would have 
killed his attendants without a qualm of con- 
science. 

The contrast between this prisoner's mental 
attitude and that of one of my Bavarian pa- 
tients was striking. The latter had had his left 
arm cruelly shattered, and on dressing it I dis- 
covered a large ragged wound above the elbow. 
[196] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

He spoke no English, so that I was obliged to 
use my indifferent German. 

^'Wie gelit es dieser M org en?'' I asked him. 

"Ganz gut" he replied, as he looked up with 
a grateful smile at hearing his native tongue. 
He continued in German: "The nurses have 
been very good to me, but my arm pains 
greatly." 

We carried on a more or less desultory con- 
versation while the dressing was proceeding, 
but, by dint of getting him to speak slowly, I 
managed to understand him fairly well. Wish- 
ing to estimate his frame of mind as compared 
with the Prussian, I remarked: 

"I presume you feel badly over being taken 
prisoner?" 

"No," he replied slowly; "I am glad. To us 
Germans this war means a fight to the death; 
there are only two ways of escape: being crip- 
pled for life — or this. You will wonder at my 
confessing that I am glad, but I have left be- 
hind me in Heidelberg all that I love best on 

earth — my wife and two little children " 

His voice choked and tears came into his eyes, 

but after a moment he sighed: "God knows 

[197] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

whether I shall ever see them again — for me 
the war is over — it is just as well." 

Do you blame one for forgetting that this 
man was an enemy? "One touch of sympathy" 
in spite of the horrors of war, still "makes the 
whole world kin." We may hate the Germans 
en masse, but heart cannot help going out to 
heart, and in the weeks that followed I con- 
fess, without apology, that I learned to look 
upon this man as a friend. 

It was about four o'clock the following af- 
ternoon that Wilson approached me, and, pull- 
ing himself up to attention, said: 

"Th' nurse on Saskatchewan ward, zur, ses 
as that German corporal ain't had any feed 
t'day." 

"Why not? I asked him. 

"Dunno, zur, but he ain't, an' she's ast me to 
bring th' Orderly Officer to see him." 

We had laid it down as a principle that G er- 
man patients, in every instance, were to be 
treated the same as our own Tommies, so that 
it was annoying to hear that one of our men 
had been guilty of Hun tactics. Although I 
despised this corporal more than any of the 
others, neglect, even of him, could not be coun- 
[198] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

tenanced in a hospital. I hastened up the 
stairs to investigate. The nurse corroborated 
Wilson's statement. The German had com- 
plained to her that he had had only a light 
breakfast and no dinner, although the other 
men in his room had received theirs. 

I called the ward orderly. "Why did you 
not give this man his dinner?" I asked him 
sternly. 

"The meat was all gone when I went for it, 
sir," he replied, without looking me in the eye, 
"but I gave him a dish of custard." 

Evidently the orderly had made up his mind 
to punish the Bosche, and while I sympathised 
secretly with his antipathy to the individual, I 
couldn't condone his disobedience or the prin- 
ciple. 

"Come with me," I commanded, "and I'll 
ask him myself." 

We entered a room which contained only 
three beds. In the farthest was a burly giant 
of a Highlander, in the middle the wretched 
German corporal, and nearest to us was a 
Munsterite of prodigious muscle and who was 
but slightly wounded in the leg. 

I asked the German in English, which I well 
[199] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

knew he understood, whether he had received 
his dinner or not. He affected not to under- 
stand me, and answered in German. As my 
German is not as fluent as my French, and I 
knew that he also spoke this language and 
might have some secret reason for not wishing 
to speak English, I tried him in French. He 
pretended not to understand this either. My 
opinion of him sank even lower. I tried him 
then in German, and he replied quite readily 
in his own tongue. 

"I did not have any meat, but I was given a 
dish of pudding." 

"Did you eat it?" I asked him. 

"I had no chance to do so," he answered. 

"Why not?" I queried. 

He turned his head slowly and looked first 
at the big Highlander and then at the equally 
big Munsterite, and shook his head as he re- 
plied: "I don't know." 

There was some mystery here, and not such 
a deep one that it couldn't be unravelled. I 
asked the Munsterite : 

"Did you eat this man's pudding?" 

"No, sir," he answered readily, but with a 
[ 200 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

queer smile. The Highlander also answered 
in the negative. There was still a mystery. 

"Do you know this German?" I asked the 
man from Munster and whose bed was nearest. 

"Do I know him, sir!" he replied, with a sig- 
nificant look directed at his enemy. "I've seen 
that swine several times. He's a sniper, and 
used to go about with another tall swine who 
wore glasses. We never could kill the blighter, 
but he picked off three of our officers and 
wounded a fourth. Do I know him, sir? — ^my 
eye!" 

Under the circumstances I couldn't reproach 
him. I felt morally certain he had stolen the 
German's pudding, as he could easily have 
reached it from his bed. I didn't care to probe 
the matter further, but warned him that such a 
breach of discipline must not occur again. 
After reprimanding the orderly also for his 
negligence — ^more from a sense of duty than 
desire, I admit — I ordered that some food be 
brought up at once, and saw that it reached its 
destination. 

We could not have punished the German 
worse than to leave him in that room. One 
could easily understand why he pretended 
[201] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

not to understand English, for I am sure the 
remarks which passed across his bed in the days 
he was there made his ears tingle and his mis- 
erable flesh creep. 

After I had retired that night, Tim came up 
as usual to see that I was comfortable. Some- 
times, when I was in the humour, I told him a 
story; not so much with the idea of enlighten- 
ing him as to hear his comments as I proceeded 
and from which I gained much amusement. 

"Did you ever hear of the mammoth whose 
carcase they found in Siberia, Tim?" I asked 
him. 

"Wot's a mammoth, Maje?" he queried, as 
he seated himself upon my box and, crossing 
his legs, prepared to listen. 

"A mammoth, Tim," I replied, "is an extinct 
animal, similar to the elephant, but which grew 
to tremendous size." 

"How big?" he enquired tentatively — ^his 
head on one side as usual. 

"Oh, taller than this house, Tim; often much 
taller. His teeth were nearly as big as a hat 
box, and his leg bones almost as big around as 
your waist." 

[ 202 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Go on — go on, I'm a-listenin'," he growled 
dubiously. 

"Well, this mammoth had tumbled over a 
cliff in the mountains of Siberia, thousands of 
years ago, and falling upon a glacier was fro- 
zen solidly in the ice, and, as it never melted, 
his body didn't decay. A few years ago they 
discovered it, and dug it out practically in- 
tact." 

Tim's eyes were wide, and his mouth had 
fallen open during this description. 

"Wot more?" he demanded quizzically. 

"Only this," I continued, "that everything 
had been so well preserved by the ice that even 
the wisp of hay was still in his mouth." 

"Dat'U do — dat'U do," he cried, as he rose 
abruptly to his feet. "Don' tell me no more. 
I sits here like a big gawk listenin' to dat story 
wit' me mout' open an' takin' it all in like a 
dam' fool. An' I stood fer it all, too," he con- 
tinued, with remorseful irritability, "till ye 
comed to dat 'wisp o' hay' business — dat wos 
de las' straw." 

"Hay, Tim," I corrected. 

"Hay er straw, it's all de same to dis gent. 
Geesl you is de worse liar wot I ever heard." 
[ 203 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FKANCE 

Tim's humiliation at the thought that he had 
been taken in was so comical that I had to 
laugh. He turned hastily for the door, and as 
he passed out cried: 

"Good night, sir. Don' have no more night- 
mares like dat." 

The first faint light of day was stealing into 
the room as I felt myself tugged gently by the 
toe. I opened my eyes and dimly saw Tim's 
dishevelled head at the foot of my bed. 

"What is it, Tim?" I asked, in some sur- 
prise. 

"Look'ee here," he said huskily, "tell me 
some more about this yere biffalo." And with 
a soft chuckle he tiptoed out of the room. 

When the time came to send the German 
prisoners to England little Sergeant Mack 
was detailed to guard them. After a comfort- 
able stay for two weeks in hospital, and with a 
keen recollection of kindly treatment through- 
out, it was hardly likely they would attempt 
violence or brave the dangers of escape. But 
Mack, seated in the ambulance with a dozen 
healthy-looking Germans, who could easily 
have eaten him alive had they been so disposed, 
clutched in his coat pocket a little .22 revolver 
[204] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

which Reggy had lent him. He seemed to ap- 
preciate the possibility of a catastrophe and, 
judging by the uneasy expression on his good- 
natured face, he had little relish for his pre- 
carious duty. 

Even the ill-famed corporal looked his dis- 
appointment at leaving us, and the others 
seemed to feel that they would rather stay with 
captors whom they knew than fly to captors 
"whom they knew not of." 

The Pole had, remarkable to relate, learned 
to speak English with a fair degree of success 
during his two weeks' stay, and quite openly 
expressed his regret at leaving. The others 
were merely silent and glum. Perhaps they 
felt that now that their wounds were healed, 
like well-fed cattle they were to be taken out 
and killed. The ambulance driver and Ser- 
geant Honk were seated in front, but little 
Mack was alone inside, and they had twenty 
miles to go. 

Nothing of moment happened until the am- 
bulance, threading its way between the rail- 
road tracks at Boulogne, pulled up upon the 
quay at the Gave Mariti7ne. Here unexpected 
trouble arose. No German prisoners could be 
[ 205 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

taken upon the hospital ship ; the Embarkation 
Officer refused to let them aboard. He said 
they must be taken back to the Canadian hos- 
pital until a proper boat was ready for them. 

During this discussion it got whispered 
about amongst the populace that there were 
Bosches in the ambulance, and in an incredibly 
short space of time it was surrounded by an 
angry mob who shook their fists and swore sav- 
agely at the occupants. Apparently they only 
needed a leader to urge them on, and the Ger- 
mans would have been torn from their seats. 
The prisoners remained quiet, but the pallor of 
their faces showed that they realised the seri- 
ousness of their position. 

Sergeant Mack drew his little revolver and 
shouted to the driver to make haste and get 
away. The driver needed no further urging; 
the danger was too obvious. The car started 
with a jerk and cleared the crowd before they 
were aware of Mac's intentions, but they 
shouted wrathful oaths after it as it sped up 
the quay. 

"Blimey, if them French ayn't got a bit uv 
temper too!" Honk ejaculated, as he wiped the 
[ 206 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

sweat from his excited brow; "five minutes 
more'n they'd 'ave 'ad them blighters inside by 
the scruff uv their bloomin' necks." 

Imagine the surprise and dismay of the 
nurses as they saw the crowd of broadly smiling 
Germans coming up the hospital steps. The 
nurses, who had for two weeks repressed their 
natural antipathy to these men and had given 
them good care, felt considerably put out by 
their return. But the prisoners, like mangy 
dogs who had found a good home, were so glad 
to return to us that it was pitiful to see their 
pleased faces, and we took them in again with 
the best grace we could assume. The few hours 
they had had together in the ambulance had 
given them a chance to compare experiences. 
They were content. All we could hope was 
that our own boys under similar circumstances 
in Germany would be treated as tolerantly and 
well. 

Three weeks afterward they all left for Eng- 
land, and even the Prussian was almost recon- 
ciled to us, for he said in parting: ''Auf Wie- 
dersehen!" 



[207] 



CHAPTER XIII 

The colonel's seven-passenger Berliet was 
chug-chugging softly at the villa door, the 
drowsy hum of the exhaust hinting of con- 
cealed power and speed. The colonel, Reggy, 
Jack Wellcombe and I were about to com- 
mence our long-looked-for trip to that bat- 
tered corner of Belgium which still remained 
in British hands. 

Tim was standing at the door with his 
master's "British warm" thrown across his arm, 
waiting for the colonel to come out. It was a 
clear cold February morning, the air had in it 
just the faintest hint of frost, but not a breath 
of wind stirred the green foliage of the pines. 
Lady Danby's runabout stood across the road, 
and from beneath it peeped a pair of trim limbs 
encased in thick woollen stockings and ending 
in a pair of lady's heavy walking boots ; telling 
Tim that her ladyship's dainty "chauffeur" was 
somewhere there below. 

The "lady-chauffeur" was one of that eccen- 
[208] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

trie, but interesting, band of mannish English- 
women who invaded France in the early days 
of the war, and who have done wonders toward 
making Tommy's life in a foreign land agree- 
able. Intelligent, highly educated, remarkably 
indifferent to the opinion of the outside world. 
Miss Granville was a character worth more 
than a passing glance. Her toque was always 
pulled well over her ears, her thick, short grey 
woollen skirt had two immense pockets in the 
front, into which her hands, when not otherwise 
engaged, were always deeply thrust. A long 
cigarette invariably drooped from the corner 
of her pretty, but determined mouth, and she 
walked with a swinging, athletic stride. 
Romance might have passed her by unnoticed ; 
but the world could not ignore her — she was too 
much a part of it. Some innate chivalry im- 
pelled Tim to step across and offer his assist- 
ance to the fair one in distress. 

"Kin I be any help to ye. Miss?" he en- 
quired, as he stooped down and peered under- 
neath the car at the little lady who, stretched 
at full length upon her back, was smoking a 
cigarette and at the same time screwing home 
an unruly nut. 

[209] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Oh! Is that you, Tim?" she remarked 
without removing the cigarette or taking her 
eyes off her work. "No, thanks, I think not — 
this is a woman's job." 

"Ladies does queer stunts in France," Tim 
commented meditatively; "we ain't taken ad- 
vantage uv dem in Canada de way we ought. 
See how de womens here carries wood on dere 
backs, an' look at dem fish-women ketchin' 
skrimps in de sea. Gee, de gals to home ain't 
never seed real work!" 

"You should train them, Tim. It's all a 
matter of up -bringing. Won't you have a 
cigarette?" she replied as she thrust a long 
open silver case out from under the car toward 
him. Tim extracted an Egyptian of a size 
such as he had never seen before. 

"T'ankee, Miss — dat's a smoke fer a prince." 

"That was the intention, Timothy," she re- 
marked casually; and then came an un- 
expected question: "Do ladies in Canada 
smoke, Tim?" 

Tim was visibly embarrassed. "Not sich as 

we calls ladies. Miss," he stammered ; and then 

realising that he had made a fauw pas he 

blundered on — -"that is, Miss, I mean t' say — " 

[210] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

A rippling laugh from beneath the car cut 
short further explanation. 

"Tim, Tim," she cried mockingly, "what a 
sad courtier you would make — you're too de- 
liciously truthful." 

Poor Tim was red with chagrin. 

"I don' know wot a kertyer is," he replied 
defensively; "I'm a hod-carrier meself." 

"Stick to it, lad," she laughed, "the hod lost 
one of its best exponents when you came to 
the war." 

But the colonel now appeared at the door, 
and Tim, with a hasty adieu to his fair tor- 
mentor, sprang across the road. When we 
were all snugly tucked in the car, he stood for 
a moment looking ruefully toward the cause 
of his recent embarrassment. 

"Dat's a queer gent, sir," he observed to 
the colonel, "dat lady-shoffer 'cross de way. 
It ain't on'y her boots wot's like a man's — de 
works in her belfry's queer too." 

Reggy secretly sympathised with Tim's dis- 
comfiture, for it was only the day before, when 
he had made a graceful but unavailing whack 
at a golf ball, that he had turned to see her 
[211] 



THE FIRST CANi\DIANS IN FRANCE 

watching him intently — hands in pockets, cig- 
arette in mouth. 

"Rotten stroke, Miss Granville?" he re- 
marked, to cover his annoyance; and she had 
coolly blown a cloud of smoke through her 
nostrils and replied: 

"You're dead lucky to have hit it at all." 

As the car moved off Reggy exclaimed: 
"That's the sort of girl who never gets a hus- 
band." 

"Why not?" queried the colonel. 

"Too much brain," Reggy returned. "It's 
too humiliating for a man to have a wife 
cleverer than himself." 

"All depends upon the man," the colonel 
commented drily. Reggy ventured no reply 
to this ambiguous retort, but for the next few 
miles seemed lost in thought. 

An hour's uneventful run brought us to the 
barricade on the outskirts of Boulogne. It 
consisted of two large waggons placed at an 
oblique angle across the road, at the foot of a 
steep hill. It was so ingeniously arranged 
that a motor car could not pass except at low 
speed. We were stopped by the French guard 
who stood with fixed bayonet — that long slen- 
[ 212 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

der wicked-looking instrument, the sight of 
which makes cold shivers run up and down the 
back. The officer emerged from his little hut, 
and saluted with all the grace peculiar to the 
true Frenchman. 

"Vott^e 'laisser-passer/ monsieur^ si'l vous 
plais?"" he demanded politely. 

The colonel unfolded the large blue pass, 
duly signed and stamped. It was scrutinised 
closely, the name and number of the car were 
recorded, and the officer, once more saluting, 
motioned us to proceed. 

Running a barricade in France is not a 
healthful exercise. We did it once, by mis- 
take, but an immediate rifle shot brought us 
to a halt. The sentry takes nothing for 
granted; if one goes through six times a day, 
the pass must be produced each time. Even 
the small towns of northern France cannot be 
entered or left without this ceremony. 

We lunched at Mony's — every English and 
Canadian officer in France knows the spot — a 
small Italian restaurant close to the theatre, 
where susbtantial but delicious meals pop up 
from the cellar's depths. In this small room 
with the sawdust-covered floor and the little 
[213] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

glass partitioned stalls, the full-stomached Sig- 
ner Mony beams upon a clientele such as no 
other like cafe in the world can boast. 

French, Belgian, English; yes, at times 
Italian, Russian, Serbian and even Japanese 
officers of high rank and ladies whose fame in 
charitable and Red Cross work is international, 
dine in this unique cafe. The little bar is in 
the dining room, and above its mahogany top 
you may see the head and shoulders of the 
proprietor's youthful daughter — a girl of such 
rare and artistic southern beauty that men and 
women too stare in admiring wonder. 

But the military and the nobility are not the 
only guests. The crowded cafe distils a 
broad Bohemianism which startles one. At 
one table we see two dark-eyed "ladies-of-the- 
street" boldly ogling a couple of young subal- 
terns in khaki who have just arrived from Eng- 
land. Brushing shoulders with the finest in 
the land the demimondaine quaffs her green 
liqueur, powders her nose and dabs again the 
painted cheek that riots in its bloom. At 
another table two French generals, oblivious to 
the hum about them, are planning schemes of 
[214] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

war too deep for thoughts of giddy girls who 
seek to catch their eye. 

Above the glass partition curls the smoke of 
cigarettes, and the laughing voices of English- 
women tell us who are there. Upon the 
leather-cushioned bench which skirts the wall, 
a handsome Belgian, well past middle age, 
rests his chin upon the shoulder of a beautiful 
young Russian girl, and gently puts his arm 
about her waist. And as we look with passing 
interest at the pair, she takes the lit cigar from 
her companion's lips and places it between her 
own, blowing the clouds of smoke into his face. 
Every table but one is filled. The blended 
murmur of a dozen different tongues, the pop- 
ping of champagne corks, the rippling laughter 
of the women, all combine in one strange sound 
in stranger France. One thing only reminds 
us of the outer world. The mani-coloured uni- 
forms of soldiers of the several nations repre- 
sented tell us all too truly that only a few miles 
away is the great grim battlefield and — death. 

At 3 p.m. we started once more on the road 
and climbed the steep hill to that broad high- 
way which leads to Calais. But now we 
reached another barricade, and an unexpected 
[213] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

obstacle arose. The sentry regretted with a 
shrug of the shoulders and both uplifted hands, 
but the road was under repairs, and none might 
pass that way. 

Jack came to the rescue and appealed to him 
in his inimitable French. Monsieur le Colo- 
nel with him was urgently needed at the 
front. The shortest and quickest route was 
the only one for such an important man — great 
speed was essential to the completion of press- 
ing duties. 

We could see the sentry wavering. Jack 
repeated: "Mon Colonel est hien presse — 
bien presseT The sentry capitulated — of 
course if the Colonel was presse, there was 
nothing else for it. He let us pass. As we 
whirled along the road, Jack laughed in that 
boyish manner of his and exclaimed : 

"If you're ever held up by a French sentry, 
you must always be presse — it's a great word ! 
If you're only presse enough you can get any- 
where in France." 

There wasn't another vehicle but ours upon 
that splendid highway, and we bowled along 
at tremendous speed through green fertile val- 
leys and through leafless forests, rounding the 
[216] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

curve which runs to the southeast from Calais 
and skimming along the crest of a low smooth 
mountain for mile upon mile. 

We soon were on the road to St. Omer. 
From time to time the noisy whir of an aero- 
plane overhead helped us to realise that we 
were gradually drawing nearer to the real 
battle line, and once on looking up we could 
see the giant human bird at a great height, sail- 
ing above us. He came lower, so that we were 
able to see the pilot distinctly, and directed his 
course straight above the road. At the time 
we were travelling about fifty miles an hour, 
but he passed us as though we had been stand- 
ing still — a moment later he became a mere 
speck in the distance, then faded into the mist 
beyond. 

As we approached closer to the front we had 
expected to find the towns deserted except by 
troops. In this we were agreeably disap- 
pointed. As we entered St. Omer we found 
motors and waggons by the hundreds coming 
and going in a busy rush ; every store was open 
too, and business was thriving with a thrift 
unknown before the war. Women and chil- 
dren, soldiers and civilians, crowded the busy 
[217] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

streets, and the hum of industry was heard on 
every hand. Here not many miles from the 
trenches, we could see again the undaunted 
confidence of France, implicit reliance upon 
her troops, unswerving loyalty to her ideals — ■ 
unutterable contempt for the possibility of 
further German invasion. It was a revelation 
in faith and a stimulus to merit such whole- 
souled unbreakable trust. 

We had just drawn up at the curb in the city 
square when a big Rolls-Royce turned the 
corner and stopped close to us. It contained 
a man who wore the uniform of the British Red 
Cross Society, and who well matched the car 
in size; he descended and hastened over to 
our car. 

"Jack!" he cried delightedly, "old Jack 
Wellcombe; by George, I'm glad to see you!" 
As he spoke he shook Jack warmly by the 
hand. "You and your friends must come over 
to the 'Bachelor's Own' with me." 

Jack performed the round of introductions, 
and Mr. Harman, who proved to be an Ameri- 
can from Texas, reiterated that we must come 
and dine with him. 

"Thanks, Harman, old chap; we really must 
[218] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

get along, we have to make Poperinghe to- 
night," Jack protested; but his American 
friend refused to take "no" for an answer. 

"For," he concluded, parodying a line from 
a once popular opera, " 'you really must eat 
somewhere, and it might as well be here.' 
Don't be in a hurry to get to Poperinghe," he 
continued. "I was over there this afternoon 
when a German aviator came to call. Just 
as a preliminary, and in order to show his good 
faith, he dropped a bomb on the church — Some 
crash, I tell you. It trimmed one corner off 
the tower and spattered the door rather badly." 

"Was any one hurt?" Reggy enquired 
anxiously. 

"Not at the moment," Harman replied, 
"but a few hundred fools, including your hum- 
ble servant, rushed into the square 'to see what 
made the wheels go round.' He hovered over 
us gracefully for a few moments, waiting to 
collect a good crowd of spectators, then he 
dropped a big one right into the centre of the 
mass." 

"Good Lord!" Reggy exclaimed in a horri- 
fied whisper, "what happened?" 

"Nothing as bad as we deserved, but there 
[219] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

were eleven killed and as many more wounded 
— it was a horrible sight! You'll see the ef- 
fects of it still when you get there, in the 
broken windows and pieces of stone knocked 
out of the buildings for fifty yards around." 

We decided to stay for dinner. We motored 
down a side street and pulled up at his "Bach- 
elor's Own." It was a comfortable French 
house of the better class, with floor of coloured 
tile and long glass doors connecting all the 
down-stairs rooms. A piano and a grate-fire, 
around which a few leather easy chairs were 
placed, gave the "lounge" an appearance of 
homelike comfort — moreover, one might sit 
there and, by merely turning the head, see 
everything of interest on that floor. We 
noticed in the next room the table being spread 
for numerous guests, and a Belgian servant 
bustling about at his work. 

Harman motioned us to be seated, and after 
offering us some cigarettes, told us to "make 
ourselves at home" as he must warn his butler 
(save us!) of our arrival. When he returned 
a few moments later, beaming with smiles, like 
the true host he proved to be, he remarked dep- 
recatingly : 

[220] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"You mustn't expect too much of an old 
bach's table in these rough war-worn days ; but 
as far as it goes this is open house to every 
man in uniform." 

Later in the evening, when guest after 
guest "dropped in," until there were eighteen 
of us in all, we grasped the significance of his 
remark, and realised what his genial hospitality 
meant to the lonely officers who passed that 
way. 

We didn't expect too much — in fact we didn't 
expect half of what we got. We hadn't looked 
forward to grilled merlin, roast chicken, ten- 
der lamb, Jerusalem artichokes or delicious 
cantaloupe, nor to Gruyere cheese served with 
crisp cream- wafers. In our modesty we had 
forgotten to expect the mellow flavoured wines 
which clung to the sloping sides of glass as 
delicate as a spider's web, or rich Havana 
cigars and real Egyptian cigarettes. No, 
strange as it may seem to the casual reader, 
we hadn't expected any of these things; we 
were prepared for Bologna sausage and a can 
of sardines, but in these we were disappointed. 
A whirlwind of plenty rose at Harman's magic 
call, and cast us adrift upon a sea of luxury. 
[221] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Towards the close of this splendid repast, I 
took occasion to ask our benevolent host to 
what particular branch of the Red Cross work 
he was devoting his energies. 

"Just what you see," he answered with a 
laugh. "Cheering up dull dogs like Well- 
combe here, as they pass upon their weary 
way — that's about all." 

"He's talking bally rot!" cried Jack from 
his end of the table, "I'll tell you what he does, 
as he won't tell you himself. He feeds the 
hungry and the poor; he gives all kinds of 
delicacies, from pickles to pheasants, to the 
wounded and sick soldiers in the Field Ambu- 
lances and hospitals for miles around; he car- 
ries food and drink to the wounded Tommies 
in the trenches and the Dressing Stations. 
I've seen him steal out upon the battlefield 
in a perfect hell of machine gun bullets and 
shrapnel — places where the devil himself 
wouldn't venture or expect to get out alive — 
and carry back those poor shattered lads in his 
arms. He — " 

"Jack, Jack," Harman cried in protest, "for 
heaven's sake have a little pity — I can't live 
up to a rep' like this!" 

[ 222 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Don't interrupt, please !" Jack commanded. 
"One word more and then I'm through. He's 
been a perpetual Santa Claus to every boy at 
the front, and a godsend to every man in the 
rear — a damn good fellow and a man." He 
had risen to his feet and struck the table with 
his hand in his earnestness. "Here's a toast 
for you, my comrades in arms," he cried in con- 
clusion: "Here's to Harman — Harman the 
Red Cross hero of St. Omer!" 

As one man we rose to our feet and drained 
our glasses dry. 

After dinner we crowded into the lounge, 
and Jack sat down at the piano. With nimble 
fingers he drew soft music from the keys. We 
soon discovered we were in a nest of artists, 
drawn together by a common tie. 

Little Watkins, another Red Cross driver, 
who, as we afterwards learned, had risked his 
life a score of times to help some wounded fel- 
low on the treacherous road, sang for us. It 
seems but yesterday that we sat there in the 
smoke-filled room, listening with rapt attention 
to his silvery tenor voice. The flames from 
the fire lit up his face as the throbbing notes 
poured forth. Je sais que vous etes jolie; 
[223] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

we know now why he sang so well — ^he was in 
love. Poor Watkins has many months since 
passed to the "great beyond," but the sweet 
pathos of his voice still lingers in the ears of 
those he charmed that night. 

Kennerly Rumford was then called upon — 
yes, the world-renowned Kennerly Rumford, 
in khaki in a little room in St. Omer — and in 
that magnificent baritone of his filled the house 
until it rocked with glorious sound. Rich, deep, 
rolling melody welled up from his great chest, 
until the wonder of it struck us dumb. I looked 
about me ; pipes rested unused upon the table ; 
cigarettes had been cast away, and the cigars, 
forgotten for the nonce, were dead. 

We were loathe to leave this house of enter- 
tainment, but time was pressing, and we still 
had many miles to go. 

The streets were black as pitch; no lights 
were permitted in the war zone, but at last we 
found our way out of the town, and started. 



[224] 



CHAPTER XIV 

As we sped along the road to Poperinghe, 
the headlights of our car made a lone streak of 
white against the utter blackness of the outer 
world. Occasionally on the wings of the wind 
came the boom of the big guns, followed a mo- 
ment after by the sharper crash of the burst- 
ing shells. The barricades became more nu- 
merous, and from time to time we were halted 
by a British sentry and our passes were scru- 
tinised with especial care. 

It was about ten p.m. when we crept softly 
through the outskirts of the little Belgian town 
which marked our destination for the night. 
We pulled up at a small hotel, less than a hun- 
dred yards from the spot where the German 
aviator had wrought such havoc that after- 
noon. The stone walls of the buildings about 
were marked with holes, which showed up 
plainly in the light from the car, and the cob- 
blestones for several yards around were splin- 
tered. 

[225] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

As is the case with most small hostels in 
northern France and Belgium, the door 
through which we entered opened directly into 
the bar. The blaze of light within, well 
screened off from the street by heavy curtains, 
dazzled our eyes, and the crowded room with 
its round marble-topped tables was heavy with 
smoke. The ever-smiling bar-maids were hav- 
ing a busy time. Bottles of whiskey and soda, 
beer or wine, stood upon every side, and the 
clink of glasses intermingling with the clatter 
of foreign tongues, fell upon our ears. The 
soft, sibilant French, the cockney English and 
the guttural Flemish warred with one another 
in an unintelligible babble. 

Jack seemed as much at home here as ever. 
The pretty blonde bar-maid, the daughter of 
the house, came forward to greet him, and 
shook him warmly by the hand. She assured 
him, and us, that ''M'sieu le Capitaine was 
tou jours le hien venuf' In fact, we were made 
so welcome that we were shown forthwith into 
a private room, the better to avoid the noise and 
smoke of the bar. 

"What are the prospects of a bed or two 
for four?" Jack asked the Belgian lassie. 
[ 226 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Mademoiselle was desole, but she feared the 
prospects were hien mal — in other words, nil. 
She would enquire across the way, however, 
and see if any of the houses round about could 
still boast an empty bed. She returned shortly, 
more desole than ever. What with the thou- 
sands of Belgian, French and English troops 
billeted in the town, there was not a vacant 
room left. She would give up her own room 
for monsieur, but Jielas, it was so petite there 
was only accommodation for one. 

Reggy laughed. When Reggy could laugh 
at the prospect of no bed for the night the sit- 
uation must have been amusing. "Colonel, 
you'll have to take the bed," he cried, "and the 
rest of us can sleep in the car." 

"No, no," Jack protested; "we must all be 
together. We'll take a run up to the convent 
and see what Sister Paulo has to say." 

"Good Lord!" laughed the Colonel. "You 
don't suppose a nun is going to house four 
strange officers for the night, do you?" 

"All things are possible — in Belgium," Jack 

returned. "You don't yet know the size of 

the Belgian heart. Sister Paulo and I are old 

friends. I had the pleasure of bringing her 

[ 227 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and several other Sisters of Charity out of 
Ypres one night last fall, during the bombard- 
ment. The Bosches had killed some of them 
and shot their poor convent full of holes. Sis- 
ter Paulo gave me this silver crucifix as a me- 
mento of the occasion." He held up for our 
inspection an exquisite little cross. "I have al- 
ways carried it since — she's a good sort; more 
woman than nun." 

"If I should die and by mischance arrive in 
Hades," cried the colonel, "I hope you'll be in 
heaven, for I'm sure you'll have enough pull 
with St. Peter to get me up !" 

As we crossed the dark square, crowded as 
it was with troops of the three nations on their 
way to and from the trenches, we could hear 
distinctly the rattle of artillery and the burst- 
ing of the German shells, not many miles away. 
A mischievous gun might have dropped a shell 
into that square at any moment — we wondered 
why it didn't. There could be only one reason. 
No humanitarian consideration ever deterred 
the German; but the town was so full of spies 
that it would not have been good business to 
bombard it. A few months later, when the 
spies were all eliminated, the long-range Ger- 
[228] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

man guns soon made short work of Poper- 
inghe. 

We arrived at a two-storey brick building, 
and after a lengthy pull at the bell-rope the 
door was slowly opened a little way. Jack en- 
quired for Sister Paulo, and upon giving his 
name, the door was immediately thrown wide 
and we were ushered into a small waiting-room. 
We had scarcely seated ourselves when a tall 
nun, with saint -like face and frank smiling eyes 
entered the room. She recognised Jack at 
once and, holding out both hands in greeting 
to him, exclaimed in excellent English: 

"My dear Capitaine! How glad I am to 
see you once more — you are as welcome as your 
name." 

"These are some very dear friends of mine, 
Sister Paulo," Jack cried, after he had intro- 
duced us individually, "and we have come to 
you in distress — we poor sons of men have no 
place to lay our heads." 

"Ah!" said Sister Paulo, with a gracious 
smile, "perhaps we shall now have an opportu- 
nity of doing you a little kindness for your 
many, many goodnesses to us." She turned 
to us and continued: "You see, Capitaine Well- 
[229] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

combe risked his life to save ours. He came to 
our Convent in Ypres during the night of that 
frightful battle, when the shells were falling 
in thousands about us, and the city was in ruins. 
One big shell tore through the wall and fell 
into the building — I shall never forget the 
horror of that night! The streets were lit up 
by fires, and the noise was awful beyond words. 
We were distracted — we seemed to have been 
forgotten by every one, when suddenly Cap- 
tain Wellcombe came like an angel from above 
and climbed in through the rent in the wall. 
One by one he carried us out in his arms and 
put us in an ambulance. He took us through 
those dreadful streets and brought us here to 
safety. He is a brave man, and every night we 
pray for his protection." 

For once in his life Jack looked embarrassed, 
and blushed like a school-girl. "Sister Paulo 
exaggerates, I'm afraid," he said, in some con- 
fusion. "It seemed more dangerous than it 
really was." 

"You may make light of it, if you wish, my 
dear Capitaine," Sister Paulo replied, holding 
up a reproving finger, "but you can never make 
[230] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

it to US less than the act of a brave and noble 
man !" 

She left us for a space, but shortly returned 
to tell us that our rooms were ready and that 
we were thrice welcome to what accommodation 
their poor house afforded. We were ushered 
upstairs and along a narrow hall in which we 
met several Belgian officers, who bowed low as 
we passed. Jack was given a small room to 
himself. 

When Reggy and the colonel and I arrived 
at the room which was pointed out as ours for 
the night we met a tall Belgian officer coming 
out of it. We grasped the situation on the 
instant. These officers, who had been hastily 
aroused, were, with their remarkable courtesy 
and native hospitality, actually giving up their 
beds to us. The others had already disap- 
peared down the stairs, and this officer too 
would have passed us with a bow, but we ar- 
rested him and protested that he must on no 
account deprive himself of his room. 

"But you are not disturbing me in the least," 
he replied in French; "you are doing me a 
great pleasure by accepting my bed." 

We assured him that we should be able to 
[231] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

find accommodation somewhere, and that we 
felt very guilty for having been the cause of so 
much inconvenience. 

"My dear sirs," he protested feelingly, 
"there is but a very small corner of Belgium 
left to us; there is so little opportunity for us 
to oifer hospitality to a guest, that when such 
an occasion as this arises where we have the 
honour of accommodating our English friends 
— it would be unkind if you denied us this poor 
privilege." 

We could not doubt his sincerity, and felt 
that he would be hurt if we made any further 
protest. Where he was to sleep we did not 
know; but we thanked him, and after bidding 
him honsoir, passed inside. There was a sin- 
gle and a double bed in the room. The tables 
were strewn with swords, revolvers, field 
glasses, prismatic compasses and all the usual 
accoutrements of military officers. It was evi- 
dent the room had been vacated hastily. 

The single bed naturally fell to the lot of 
the colonel, while Reggy and I, being a trifle 
smaller than he, clambered into the other — a 
high, old-fashioned one. Reggy sank wearily 
into the feather mattress and fell asleep as soon 
[232] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

as his head touched the pillow. He had the 
happy faculty of being able to sleep anywhere 
and at any time. 

We were to make an early start, and six 
a.m. came all too soon. A light French break- 
fast was prepared for us when we descended. 
About an hour later, after expressing our deep 
thanks to our gracious hostess, we got into the 
motor once more and started on the road to- 
wards Ypres. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. 
The sun shone brightly, and not a warlike 
sound broke the stillness of the clear, cool air 
as we sped along between the tall poplars 
which lined the road. One thing only reminded 
us that we were approaching close to the battle 
line — the reserve trenches dug on either side. 
These we passed from time to time; but they 
were half full of water and uninhabited, and it 
was apparent there was little thought of their 
ever being needed. 

Here and there a few horses were tethered 
in poor canvas-covered shelters, and in the 
farmyards near-by we saw numbers of French 
military waggons which looked like gipsy carts. 
Occasionally we overtook a battalion of French 
or Belgian troops marching quietly towards the 
[233] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

trenches. Their apparent absence of any defi- 
nite marching formation struck us with sur- 
prise. They did not walk in hne, but ambled 
along of their own free will; some with loaves 
of bread or rolls strapped to their knapsacks, 
and one carrying a roast of beef under his arm. 
They seemed to have foraged for themselves, 
and carried along any extras which appealed to 
their individual fancy. But they were a tall, 
stalwart-looking body of men, and we felt sure 
were much better trained than their irregular 
march would indicate. 

We had reached a point about midway be- 
tween Poperinghe and Ypres. The morning 
was still soundless, save for the whir of our 
motor. 

"Looking at this blue sky and the quiet 
fields, who would ever believe there is a war so 
near?" Reggy remarked. 

These words had no sooner fallen from his 
lips than the air was suddenly rent with the 
blast of gun after gun, so close on our right 
that we were startled and instinctively jumped 
towards the left of our car. The sharp burst- 
ing of shells over our heads impelled us to look 
[ 234 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

up, and there directly above us was a German 
aeroplane. 

Shell after shell burst below him, leaving 
rounded clouds of white smoke hanging in the 
still air, and as each exploded the aviator rose 
higher and higher. The range of the guns grew 
longer; some shells burst above him; some to 
right or left. Round after round of shrapnel 
followed his every movement. We looked in 
vain for the battery. They were so carefully 
hidden that although we could not have been 
fifty yards away, there was not the slightest 
visible sign to indicate their position. 

At the same time the whirring rat-tat-tat-tat 
of a machine gun close beside us on the left 
made us turn our heads sharply in that direc- 
tion. At first we could not see this gun either, 
but guided by the sound we soon discovered it 
on a platform halfway up the outside of a 
farmhouse, against the wall, and manned by a 
French soldier. We watched the aviator with 
the same interest that a quartette of hunters 
might view some great bird, hoping to see him 
winged. But he seemed to bear a charmed life, 
and dodged shrapnel and machine-gun bullets 
alike, soaring higher and higher until he be- 
[235] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

came a mere speck in the heavens. Then the 
firing ceased as abruptly as it had commenced. 

Our car had been stopped during this one- 
sided battle, but now that it was over we started 
on again. The cobblestone road had been torn 
up by shell fire in many places, and driving was 
rough and difficult. We passed batteries of 
artillery and long lines of army service wag- 
gons, wending their way Ypres-ward. There 
was no further firing for the present and we 
crossed the bridge over the Yser and entered 
the town without mishap. From the distance 
there was little change to be noticed in Ypres ; 
but now that we entered the streets we soon 
saw the effects of the bombardment. For the 
most part the smaller houses had not at this 
time been destroyed; but every large building 
in the place was in ruins. Churches, convents, 
schools and factories had been ruthlessly 
crushed, and the railway station was levelled to 
the earth. The streets were almost deserted, 
shops were long since closed, and business was 
dead. 

We arrived at La Grand Place — once the 
scene of a busy market, and stood beside the 
ruins of the famous Guild Hall. Its roof had 
[236] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

fallen in; the walls were shattered; piles of 
stones and mortar had tumbled into the street. 
The clock tower alone, as if in defiance of the 
German gunners, stood erect and the clock re- 
mained untouched. A dead horse lying close 
by upon the pavement reminded us that we 
were now within easy reach of the enemy's fire. 

We turned and walked across to the Cathe- 
dral of St. ]\Iartin ; a short time since the pride 
of that beautiful city. Alas! it too was lost. 
We clambered over the ruins and got upon the 
window ledge to look within. The priceless 
panes were gone; the marble floor, except in 
patches here and there, was buried deep and 
the great supporting columns of the dome had 
toppled over ; one lay across the nave, its round 
flat stones still clinging obliquely together and 
lying like rouleaux of coin side by side. The 
sacrilegious shells had burst into the chapel of 
the Holy Sacrament, had desecrated the altar 
and piled huge heaps of masonry upon the 
floor. The crucifix had disappeared, but the 
statues of the saints, by some strange miracle, 
remained intact. 

From the torn paintings upon the walls the 
faces seemed to have turned appealingly to- 
[237] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ward the open roof, their gaze fixed as in a last 
pitiful prayer to heaven. They were lost — 
those wondrous works of Art which once with 
magic charm had held the world enthralled. 
Never again would humanity come to bow in 
humble admiration at that shrine of beauty, nor 
gather inspiration from the hallowed walls. 
And as we looked upon the wreck about us, 
now but the memories of an irrestorable past, 
our bitter thoughts travelled across the lines 
of trenches to that strange race to whom no 
neighbour's hall or home is sacred and to whom 
the work of centuries, the irreplaceable monu- 
ments of master minds, are naught. 

As we looked again upon those time-hon- 
oured, tottering walls the great jagged holes 
seemed to cry out to us for revenge, and a sud- 
den just but implacable anger against the 
perpetrators of these hideous world-crimes 
stormed within our hearts and choked our ut- 
terance. 

With a sigh we turned from the contempla- 
tion of this scene of wanton destruction and 
started our walk through the desolate streets. 
Crossing the Menin road, we entered that lit- 
tle graveyard where so many of our brave men 
[238] 



THE FIBST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

lay buried. The houses round about lay crum- 
bled, but this sacred spot, by accident or design, 
had been spared. As we passed bareheaded 
down the path between rows of closely crowded 
graves, the new-made wooden crosses seemed 
to lift their white arms to us in mute appeal. 
Here and there the cap of some once gallant 
French or Belgian officer hung upon his cross 
— a crown of glory that no mortal hand dare 
touch. Some of these caps had rested there 
for months, rotted by rain, torn by the wind, 
faded by the sun — but dyed with a glory which 
time could never dim, and emblazoned with the 
halo of self-sacrifice. And as we stood there 
upon the threshold of the battlefield we saw 
the conflict in a clearer light — behind us faith 
and patriotism; in front patience and heroism, 
and at our feet self-sacrifice and deathless love. 
A great wreath of purple leaves lay upon 
the grave of a young prince, clinging lovingly 
to the new-made mound. He rested there side 
by side with his humbler fellows — they had 
fought and died together. We sometimes for- 
get that a prince is human; he seems so far 
above us — he lives in a different sphere and 
appears to be cast in a different mould. But 
[239] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

when we stand beside his grave, we realise at 
last that he was but a mortal like ourselves; 
that he has lived his life like us — the same de- 
sires, the same ambitions and the same need for 
love. Only one word was entwined, in white 
letters, with the purple leaves ; only one word, 
but it bridged two countries and two souls — 
heaven and earth were joined — for the small 
white flowers clinging together spelled the 
magic name of ''Mother/' We may fall un- 
noticed in the thick of battle, we may be buried 
with a host of comrades in a nameless grave, 
but a mother's heart will seek us out, no mat- 
ter where we lie, and wrap our lonely souls 
about with the mantle of her undying love. 

"You have seen both ends of a battle now — 
the hospital and the graveyard," Jack ex- 
claimed, as we left the cemetery; "come with 
me and I will show you what it is like to be in 
the middle." 

"Can't we take a little walk along this road, 
and see the first line trenches?" Reggy en- 
quired. We were crossing the Menin road 
again at the moment. 

Jack laughed. "Not if you wish to come 
further with us. If you step out of this shel- 
[240] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ter in daylight there won't be any K-eggy to 
brighten our trip. No one goes out there in 
dayHght — that is, if he wishes to attain old 
age." 

"But it seems so quiet here," Reggy pro- 
tested. "Apart from broken-down buildings, 
I can't see a sign of a war — ^there isn't a soul 
in sight but ourselves." 

"Jolly good reason," Jack replied. "If you 
take a peep through the hedge there you'll see 
the trenches — we're as close as we dare go at 
present." 

Reggy looked disappointed. "There isn't 
even a gun," he complained. 

It seemed as if the invisible gunners had 
heard him, for suddenly the fields round about 
us sprang to life and belched forth smoke and 
shells. Some cannon in the dark shade of the 
bushes were actually so close that we could see 
the streak of flame from the muzzle light the 
shadow. The Germans were not slow to retal- 
iate, and in a fev/ minutes the roar of their guns 
and the howl and crash of shells added to the 
general clamour. Fortunately they did not 
appear to have our range, and the shells fell far 
afield, 

[241] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"That's what you brought down upon us — 
you doubting Thomas," Jack remarked face- 
tiously to Keggy. "You've started a nice row 
now that will last for hours." 

"Isn't this great!" Reggy cried like a 
pleased child. "I wouldn't have missed this for 
a million." 

"I hope Fritzie will miss you for less," 
laughed the colonel, "or we'll be short an ex- 
Mess Secretary." 

Reggy vouchsafed no reply to this hope. 

"We'd better get along out of this," Jack 
said ; "the Bosches may discover their mistake 
before long and pour a little shower of hate 
on us." 

We got into the motor and started towards 
the Dickibusch road. At Jack's request we 
stopped for a few minutes at the ruins of a 
large schoolhouse which had comprised one 
city block. The semblance of a building re- 
mained, but the walls stood only in jagged 
patches. 

"These are the remains of our Field Ambu- 
lance," Jack explained. "Come inside and see ; 
you will get a faint idea of what the 'Jack 
Johnsons' did to our hospital wards." 
[242] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We passed into what had once been the main 
entrance. The doorway had received one great 
shell which on bursting had carried the four 
walls with it. We stumbled along the floor 
over heaps of brick and mortar ; through piles 
of broken chairs and beds, and, climbing the 
ruins of the staircase, arrived upon a landing 
from which we could see the interior of what 
had once been a large room. 

"This was my ward," Jack told us. "You 
see that big hole in the roof? A big shell came 
through there, and burst right here." He 
pointed to a wide, irregular opening in the 
floor. Every stick of furniture was smashed to 
atoms. Daylight came through great gaping 
holes in the walls and floor. The beds were 
merely nests ofl twisted iron. The greater part 
of the ceiling had fallen in and lay in a heap 
in the centre of the room. 

As we walked about we saw that every other 
ward was in a similar condition. We went out 
into the schoolyard. There were five or six 
tremendous excavations in the ground, per- 
fectly round and capable of holding a baby 
whale. There was no earth heaped up, for 
[243] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the big shells which made these hollows left 
nothing behind. 

We were still standing there when suddenly 
there arose a noise like the muffled scream of a 
distant multitude. We stood rooted to the 
spot, wondering what grim horror this might 
be. It grew louder and louder, coming to- 
wards us at terrific speed. 

"For God's sake," I cried to Jack, "what is 
that awful sound?" 

"Look into the field — quick — you will see!" 

We all looked. The sound became a roar — 
a crash, and then about a hundred yards away 
the earth sprang high into the air in a great 
black mass intermingled with clouds of smoke 
and stones. 

"Permit me," Jack remarked coolly, "to in- 
troduce you to 'Jack Johnson.' Now you can 
understand a little how those poor boys in the 
hospital felt when he came crashing through the 
roof." 

"If we stay here a few minutes longer," the 
colonel remarked, "we may have it brought 
even more dramatically to our attention." 

Jack laughed. "Oh," he cried, "we're as 
[244] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

safe here as anywhere — you never can tell 
where the next will drop." 

We were soon to verify the truth of this re- 
mark. 



[245] 



CHAPTER XV 

We had turned the corner of the road on 
which we had just witnessed the effect of the 
big shell — the hole was still smoking — when 
once again we heard the distant whine. This 
time there was no need to ask what it meant; 
we knew all too well, and for an anxious mo- 
ment or two we wondered whether after its ar- 
rival the newspapers would speak well of us, 
or whether we should be blown into such small 
pieces that we should only be reported "miss- 
ing." 

It is recorded that sometimes those who are 
drowning are able, in a few brief moments, to 
rehearse the drama of their lives. Our lives 
must have been too complicated for such hasty 
revision, but as the sound changed from a 
whine to a shriek, an unearthly roar, and with 
a crash like the crack of doom the ground 
opened before us and shot a blinding storm of 
rocks and mud sky high — when all this oc- 
curred far, far faster than I can pen the lines, 
[246] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

we had plenty of time to develop a nasty pain 
in the pit of the stomach, to which the mystic 
torment of an unripe cucumber is a joy. A 
great cavity yawned before us where once the 
road had been, and belched forth clouds of 
smoke as if the crust of hell were riven in twain. 
At the same moment, lest our tranquillity 
should be restored too soon, our own guns 
opened up with a vicious roar and hurled their 
screeching shells over our heads like myriads of 
fiends possessed. Reggy's face was a study in 
black and white — I couldn't see my own. 

"Do you think the Germans see us?" he en- 
quired anxiously of Jack. 

"No, I think not," Jack reassured him; "it's 
customary for them to shell any good road in 
the hope of picking off a convoy." 

"It's a damned uncomfortable custom," 
Reggy returned earnestly, "and I could for- 
give them for not observing it for the next ten 
minutes." 

The chauffeur, who had stopped the car 
dead by using the emergency brake, now re- 
leased it, and we started forward again. But 
we had considerable difficulty in navigating the 
ditch on the side of what had been the road. 
[247] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We had just moved in time, for a second shell 
dropped where we had been a moment since, 
and tore the opposite side of the road away. 

"Being between two lines of artillery is a 
little too much like battledore and shuttlecock," 
I remarked to Reggy, "with all the odds 
against the shuttlecock." 

"Object to word 'battledore,' " Reggy re- 
torted; "it's too frivolous and pun-like for the 
present dangerous occasion." 

We were now making haste towards a small 
village a few miles ahead, and we were not 
sorry as we passed into the poor shelter its 
brick houses afforded. As long as we were on 
the open road it was quite impossible to rid 
oneself of the feeling that the car was in full 
view of the German gunners. 

The streets of this dirty little village were 
filled with British Tommies, who, still cov- 
ered with the mud from the trenches, were as 
care-free and happy as were those fifty miles 
from the front. They smoked and chatted to- 
gether in little groups at the entrance or in the 
courtyards of the miserable hotels, one at least 
of wliich seemed to be on every Itlock. As we 
drew up the colonel enquired of a sentry: 
[ 248 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Can you tell me where the 'Princess Patri- 
cias' are billeted?" 

We had been informed that this famous bat- 
talion, which had reached France just six 
weeks after us, was somewhere in this neigh- 
bourhood. To discover their whereabouts was 
the real object of our journey. The sentry 
made reply: 

"I believe, sir, there is a battalion of that 
naime 'ere somew'eres. Hi, Bill!" he called to 
another Tommy, who was leaning against a 
near-by door-post; "w'ere is them Canydians 
wot wos 'ere t'other day?" 

"Bill" banked his cigarette by pressing it 
against the wall and came over on the double 
to the side of our car. He saluted with that 
peculiar Jumping-Jack motion so much a part 
of the real Tommy, and e j aculated : 

"I 'card they was at the next town, sir; it 
ayn't far from 'ere, but it's a funny naime — 
Runnin'-hell, er somethin' like." 

"Would it be Reninghelst ?" Jack enquired. 

"Ay — that's it, sir ; I knowed they was 'hell' 
in it somew'eres." 

"Just since the 'Canydians' came, I'll 
wager?" Reggy interjected mischievously. 
[ 249 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The Tommy grinned approval of this jest, 
and volunteered to show us the direction. He 
stood on the running board of the car and saw 
that we got started on the right road. 

"Straight ahead now, sir," he said, as he 
saluted and sprang down. 

The heavy shelling had died away, and for 
the next two miles the sun shone on a peaceful 
country. We had a chance to marvel at the 
well-ploughed fields, and wondered what ven- 
turesome farmers dared work in such a place. 
It was almost noon and we had begun to think 
that we had left the war behind us once more, 
when suddenly the rapid bark of German guns 
aroused us, and the sharp crack of shrapnel 
high above our heads caused us to look up. A 
new sight met our gaze. 

Three of our own aeroplanes were hovering 
directly over the German trenches, and battery 
after battery of artillery were exhausting them- 
selves in an angry effort to bring them down. 
The accuracy of the enemy gunners startled us. 
This time we were not the hunters, and our 
sympathies were with the aviators. As shell 
after shell burst, leaving their white clouds to 
right or left, we held our breath in suspense. 
[250] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Time and again, as the explosion occurred di- 
rectly under one of our machines, the smoke hid 
it from view, and, in a tremor of anxiety, we 
feared to see it dive to earth. But when the 
smoke cleared away our three undaunted bird- 
men were still on high, swooping over the Ger- 
man batteries with a persistence and intrepid- 
ity which must have been maddening to the 
helpless Bosches. 

It wasn't long before two enemy aviators 
rose to give battle, and as they approached our 
men the firing from below ceased. The five 
aeroplanes circled round and round, appa- 
rently sparring for position, and rose to 
such great height that we could hardly dis- 
tinguish them. They were so close together 
that neither the British nor German artillery 
dared fire upon them. At last one of the en- 
emy machines detached itself from the others 
and darted towards our lines with the speed of 
the wind. 

Immediately our batteries opened up, and 
round after round of bursting shells followed 
its every movement ; now to right, now to left ; 
now above, now below, ever closer to their 
mark. Finally one well-directed shell burs^ 
[251] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FEANCE 

immediately beneath the aviator. The ma- 
chine was straight over our heads; we craned 
our necks to follow it. It swerved and flut- 
tered like a wounded bird, slipped sideways, 
fell for a short distance, then seemed to stag- 
ger like a drunken man; righted itself at last 
and swiftly descended towards the German 
lines. That the aviator was wounded we did 
not doubt, but he had somehow escaped death. 
In the meantime we had lost sight of the other 
four machines, and when we looked for them 
again they had disappeared from view. 

The streets of Reninghelst were crowded 
with soldiers when we reached that town, and 
among them we recognised, to our joy, some 
stalwart lads from the "Princess Pats." On 
the corner .was a group of young officers, and 
in the crowd we espied the familiar features of 
Captain Stewart who had spent his last nigh; 
in Canada with us. At the same moment he 
recognised us and hurried over to the car to 
greet us. 

"Well, well," he cried delightedly, as he 
shook hands with us two at a time, "welcome to 
our city! Where the devil did you chaps 
spring from?" 

[ 252 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We assured him that his question was quite 
a propos, as we had just passed through the 
infernal regions. He laughed as he replied: 

"Interesting bit of road, that stretch between 
Ypres and here — been in the front line trenches 
ourselves for a week out there — caught blazes, 
too!" 

His uniform still showed the effects of the 
trench mud. He was a tall, thin chap, prema- 
turely grey. Like many others of the Princess 
Pats, he was a veteran of the South African 
War, a crack-shot, and all-round dare-devil. 
He spoke in short, quick snatches, starting his 
sentences with unexpected jerks, and could 
keep a regiment in shrieks of laughter. 

"How is the trench life out here?" the colo- 
nel enquired, with a jerk of the head towards 
the battle line. 

"Plain hell — ^with a capital H. Excuse the 
repetition of the word — nothing else describes 
it — a quagmire two feet deep, full of mud and 
filth." 

"Couldn't you dig it deeper?" Reggy en- 
quired with some concern. 

"No chance — everywhere you dig — turn up 
[253] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN PEANCE 

rotting carcases — farther down you go the 
more water you have to stand in." 

"The snipers are bad too, are they not?" I 
asked him. 

He laughed again. "Were bad, you mean," 
he cried; "not many left around our trench. 
Poor Fritzie found us a nasty lot — played 
dirty tricks on him — organised a 'snipe-the- 
sniper' squad — put 'em out of business." 

"How did you manage it?" I asked curi- 
ously. 

"Stalked 'em — like red Indians — dug a tun- 
nel out to a hill too — came up through the cen- 
tre of it — hollowed it out inside — and put 'em 
to sleep one by one. Fritzie doesn't love us 
anj^ more, but, by Gad, he respects us !" ' 

After we had listened to a few more details 
of this wild and remarkable life, the colonel 
enquired : 

"Where are your headquarters? We want 
to see your O.C. and the rest of the chaps." 

"I'll climb in and show you the way. It's 
in another village a few miles from here." 

Under his guidance we soon found ourselves 
in the town, and we stopped at the entrance of 
a small house which still claimed a patch of 
[254] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

garden in front. The room we entered con- 
tained a barrack table strewn with field maps 
and papers, and on the tile floor were the sleep- 
ing bags of the four officers who made this their 
temporary home. Major Gault, a tall, hand- 
some officer, with the bearing of the true sol- 
dier, rose to welcome us. 

"It seems good to see some one from home 
again," he exclaimed, as we shook hands. "I 
thought we were the only Canucks in Bel- 
gium." 

"You were the first Canadians in Belgium, 
but we beat you to France by some weeks," the 
colonel replied, "and we have come up here to 
tell you where we live, and to let you know 
that there is a Canadian hospital waiting with 
open arms to receive you when you call." 

"That's splendid," cried the major; "when 
the boys get hurt be sure you'll hear from us." 

It is just as well we cannot look into the 
future. We walk blindfolded, clinging to the 
hand of Hope, and trust to her for kindly guid- 
ance. None of us at that moment guessed how 
soon we were to "hear" from those brave men. 

Later, when we were about to start for home, 
they all came out to the car to say au revoir. 
[255] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"It's a good expression — 'au revoir/ " Cap- 
tain Stewart cried, as we were parting; "much 
better than 'Good-bye.' " 

"Take care of yourselves," we cried, "but 
don't forget if you need us, we are waiting!" 

"We'll remember," Stewart returned, "for I 
have a premonition I'll not be killedb in this 
war." 

He waved his hand as we left, and when we 
looked back the little group, whom we were 
never to see together again, waved their hands 
in a last farewell. 

After about an hour's run we saw in the dis- 
tance, set like a jewel of the Tyrolese Alps, 
the pretty town of Cassel, near which our own 
Canadian boys were shortly to be quartered. 
It was about twenty miles in a direct line from 
the trenches, and soon after our visit the long- 
range German guns dropped their tremendous 
shells on its outskirts. 

When we reached the hospital a cablegram 
was waiting for the colonel. He tore it open 
hastily, fearing bad news from home. As he 
read its contents his mouth expanded in a broad 
grin, and he passed it silently to us. We read, 
and Reggy, looking over Jack's shoulder, had 
[ 256 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the grace to blush as he too saw his mother's 
message : 

"Greatly worried about my son. No word 
from him for weeks. He was troubled with 
insomnia at home. Does he sleep better now? 
Cable my expense." 

And the colonel sat down and forthwith wrote 
this soothing reply: 

"Reggy splendid. Awake only at meal 
hours. Don't worry!" 

Late one night, about a week after our visit 
to the firing line, we were at the railway yard 
assisting in the unloading of a train of wound- 
ed. About three hundred and fifty had ar- 
rived, and we were transporting them rapidly 
to the hospital. The Medical Officer command- 
ing the train approached me and said: 

"I have one car filled with wounded officers, 
and nearly all are stretcher cases. Will you 
come and see them?" 

We walked down the line of cars and, 
mounting the steps, entered the officers' coach. 
[257] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We passed between the cots, and chatted with 
each officer in turn; they seemed quite cheery 
and bright. But one, who had pulled the blan- 
kets high about his neck, and whose face was 
partly covered with a sleeping-cap, looked very 
ill indeed. Unlike the others, he didn't smile 
as we approached, but looked up without inter- 
est. His face was white and he took no notice 
of his surroundings. I asked him how he felt. 
He answered slowly and in a weak voice: 

"I'm all in, I guess — don't trouble about 
me." 

Something in the voice and the jerky man- 
ner of speech seemed familiar. I looked at him 
more keenly. 

"Stewart!" I exclaimed with involuntary 
dismay. "Good Lord, it's Charley Stewart!" 

"Oh, is that you. Major?" he said, with a 
faint show of interest. "I've come to call, you 
see, sooner than I expected. It'll be a short 
visit," he continued grimly. "Short trip and 
a dull one." 

"Surely it's not as bad as that," I said, as 
encouragingly as I could, but feeling very sick 
at heart as I looked down at his pale face. 
[ 258 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Hole through the stomach," he replied 
weakly. "Bad enough for a start." 

"We'll take you up to the hospital — I'm sure 
we can fix you up all right," I said, with as 
much assurance as I could assume. 

"Take me wherever you like," he replied 
dully; "it won't be for long." 

I assisted in getting him into an ambulance, 
and cautioned the driver to go carefully, and 
after seeing the others safely transferred, 
sprang into a motor and followed. Imagine 
my surprise and chagrin when I reached the 
hospital to find that he had not arrived, and 
after due enquiry discovered that he had been 
taken, through some misunderstanding on the 
part of the ambulance driver, to Lady Danby's 
hospital. We concluded it would be unsafe to 
move him again that night, and after 'phoning 
the commanding officer to give him his very 
best attention, proceeded with the urgent work 
of caring for the hundreds of others who had 
already arrived. 

In the meantime Captain Stewart was car- 
ried through the imposing portal of his new 
abode. As the stretcher was deposited with a 
slight jar upon the floor in the centre of a great 
[259] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FEANCE 

hall, he opened his eyes and stared in wonder, 
first at the vaulted roof, then at the magnifi- 
cent paintings on the walls, the stage at the far 
end of the hall, and last, but by no means least, 
at Lady Danby's beautiful face as she leaned 
over him to assist him. Her golden hair, her 
big blue eyes and flushed cheeks, and her grace- 
ful figure were too much even for a man half 
dead. He gave one more helpless glance at 
the stage, then his gaze returned to this vision, 
and, closing his eyes in a sort of drowsy ecstasy, 
murmured : 

"Where's George Cohan and the chorus?" 

"What does he say?" asked Lady Danby in 
surprise. 

"He takes this for a theatre, and is asking 
where the chorus girls are," a sprightly nurse 
volunteered, with keen appreciation, and not 
a little amused at the shocked expression on 
Lady Danby's face. 

"Dear me," she exclaimed, "it must be one of 
those dreadful Canadians !" 

"I'm afraid he's not quite himself at present, 
your ladyship," the nurse protested, scarcely 
able to repress a smile. 

Stewart opened his eyes once more and re- 
[260] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

marked coolly as Lady Danby hastened to an- 
other patient: "No — not quite all there — part 
shot away, excuse me." He then closed his 
eyes again and lay still until the orderlies re- 
moved him to his bed. 

The Medical Officer came to examine him, 
and the nurse cut away the dressings from his 
side. He inspected the wound very carefully 
and finally said : 

"Rifle bullet wound through the lower lobe 
of left lung. It might have been worse." 

"How long do you think I have to live?" 
Stewart enquired, with some anxiety. 

"To live?" cried the surgeon, with a laugh. 
"About thirty or forty years, with luck." 

"What!" shouted Stewart, as he half sat up 
in bed with a quick jerk. "Do you mean to tell 
me I have the ghost of a chance?" 

"You'll have a splendid chance if you keep 
quiet and don't shout like that. You'd better 
lie down again," the surgeon commanded, not 
unkindly. 

"But, good Lord," Stewart protested ani- 
matedly, "here I've been trying to die for three 
days, — every one encouraged me to do it; 
and after passing through four surgeons' 
[261] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

hands, you're the first to tell me I have a 
chance. It's wonderful. Now I will live — 
I've made up my mind." 

"Who said you would die?" 

"First the Chaplain at the Field Ambulance 
where they carried me in — more dead than 
alive. He came and shook his head over me. 
He was a good chap and meant well, I'm sure 
— he looked very dismal. I asked him if I 
would die, and he answered pityingly : 'A man 
shot through the stomach can't live, my poor 
fellow. Shall I pray for you?' I told him to 
go as far as he liked — he got on his knees and 
prayed like the deuce." 

"But you said you were wounded three days 
ago," the surgeon remarked. "What kept you 
so long from reaching here?" 

"I lay one whole day in front of the trench 
where I was wounded. The stretcher-bearers, 
against my wishes, came out to bring me in — 
just as the man at my head stooped down they 
shot him through the brain. I heard the bullet 
go 'chuck,' — he fell stone dead across me. I 
ordered the others back at once — that they 
must leave me until night. They refused 
to go at first, but I commanded them again to 
[262] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

get back — at last when they saw I was de- 
termined, they went. Poor chaps! I know 
they felt worse at leaving me than as if they 
had been shot down." 

During this conversation the surgeon had 
dressed the wound, and now, admonishing his 
patient that he must not talk any more, left 
him for the night. In the morning Lady Dan- 
by came to his cot and marvelled at his bright 
face and cheery smile. 

"You're feeling better this morning, I see," 
she remarked brightly. 

"Much the better for seeing you, madam," 
Stewart returned, with his customary chivalry ; 
"and one does recover rapidly with such excel- 
lent nursing and care." 

"I'm afraid we're going to lose you to-day," 
she replied, with a tinge of regret in her tone. 
"The Canadians insist on claiming you as their 
own, and I suppose we must let you go." 

"I must admit," he returned, "that I am 
sorry to leave such congenial company — come 
and see me sometimes, won't you, please?" 

Lady Danby smiled. "When I first saw you 
last night, I thought I shouldn't care to see you 
again — but you aren't really quite as dreadful 
[263] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

as I thought. Some day soon I'll run in to see 
how you are getting on." 

A few hours later, when Stewart was safely 
ensconced in our hospital, he observed reminis- 
cently: "I'm awfully glad to be among old 
friends once more — but those English hospitals 
are not without their attractions!" 



[ 264 ] 



CHAPTER XVI 

He was a mere boy, scarce nineteen years of 
age, a sub-lieutenant in the Territorials, and a 
medallist in philosophy from Oxford. 

Who would have guessed that this frail, deli- 
cate-looking Welsh youth with the fair hair 
and grey eyes was gifted with an intellect of 
which all England might be proud? He might 
have passed unnoticed had one not spoken to 
him, and, having spoken, had seen the hand- 
some face light up with fascinating vivacity as 
he replied. 

One cannot attempt to recollect or depict 
the mystic workings of his marvellous mind; 
for, once aroused, gems of thought, clear cut 
and bright as scintillations from a star, dropped 
from his lips and left his hearers steeped in 
wonder. 

It was then, you may well believe, no ordi- 
nary youth who walked into the hospital, with 
mud-covered clothes and his kit still strapped 
to his back. He dropped the kit upon the floor 
[265] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

of his room and, sinking wearily into a chair, 
brushed back with his hand the unruly hair 
which sought to droop over his high forehead. 

His commanding officer, who had accompa- 
nied him to the hospital, had taken me aside, 
before I entered the room, and had told me pri- 
vately his views about the boy. 

"You look tired," I remarked, as I noted the 
weary droop of the head. 

He smiled quickly as he looked up and said : 
"Done up, I think. Those six months in Malta 
were a bit too much for me." 

"But you have been home before coming to 
France, have you not?" I asked him. 

"Home!" he cried in surprise. "No such 
luck ! We had expected a week or two in Eng- 
land after our return, but it's off. There were 
four thousand of us in Malta, but we're all here 
now, at Etaples, and liable to be sent to the 
trenches any moment. When I stood on the 
cliffs at Wimereux yesterday and saw the dear 
old shores across the Channel — " He stopped 
suddenljT", overpowered by some strong emo- 
tion. "I'd be a better soldier farther off. Be- 
tween homesickness and the pain in my chest, 
I'm about all in." 

[266] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

He did look tired and faint, and even the 
pink rays of the setting sun failed to tint the 
pallor of his cheeks. I told him I would send 
the orderly to help him undress and that he 
must get into bed at once. 

When I returned shortly and examined his 
chest, I found that he was suffering from a 
touch of pleurisy; there were, too, traces of 
more serious trouble in the lungs. 

"What do you think of me. Major?" he en- 
quired with a quizzical smile, when I had com- 
pleted the examination. "Anything interest- 
ing inside?" 

"Interesting enough to call for a long rest," 
I replied. "We'll have to keep you here a 
while and later send you home to England." 

"My O.C., who by the way is my uncle too, 
and a medical man, insisted on my coming 
here," he remarked. "He says I'm not strong 
enough for trench life. But the old boy — 
bless his heart! — loves me like a son, and I'm 
morally certain he wants to pack me off for 
fear I'll get killed. I simply can't go home, 
you know, until I've done my bit. It would be 
jolly weak of me, wouldn't it?" 

"You might go for a time," I replied guard- 
[267] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

edly, "and return later on when you get 
stronger." 

He started to laugh, but a quick stabbing 
pain in the chest caught him halfway, and he 
stopped short with a twisted smile as he ex- 
claimed : 

"I believe the old chap has been talking to 
you too ! You're all in league to get me out of 
France." 

This was so close to the truth that I could 
not contradict him, but shook my head in par- 
tial negative. His uncle felt, as I too came to 
feel later, that the loss to the world of such a 
brilliant mind and one with such potentialities 
would not be compensated for by the little good 
its master could accomplish physically in the 
trenches. 

"After all," he argued, "how much poorer 
would Wales be if I were gone? The hole 
would soon be filled.", 

"I can't agree with you," I answered slowly; 
"your life is more important to others than you 
think, and you would risk it in a field for which 
you are not physically fitted. You have over- 
drawn your brain account at the Bank of Na- 
[268] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

ture, and flesh is paying up. You must go 
home until the note is settled." 

"Sounds rational but horribly mathematical 
— and I always hated mathematics. Hope I'll 
be able," he continued mischievously, "to re- 
pay the 'interest' you and uncle are taking in 
me." 

"We want you to consider the matter philo- 
sophically," I said, "not mathematically." 

"That's better," he replied, with his usual 
bright smile; "philosophy comes more natural 
to me. True, it savours of Euclid, but I can 
forgive it that offence; it has so many virtues." 

He remained silent a few moments, thinking, 
and then asked me suddenly: "If I go home, 
how soon can I get back to France?" 

"I hope you won't return here," I replied 
gravely; "it would be suicidal, and, flattery 
aside, your life is too valuable to be sacrificed 
over here." 

"Perhaps you are right," he murmured pen- 
sively, as though we were discussing a third 
party whose life interested him only in an im- 
personal manner, and without exhibiting the 
slightest self-consciousness or vanity. "It 
might be better if I stayed at home. I admit," 
[269] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

he continued more brightly, "I have a selfish 
desire to live. I am so young and have seen 
so little of this great big interesting world and 
I want so much to know what it all means. 
Still I would far sooner die than feel myself a 
slacker or a 'skrimshanker.' " 

"No one will mistake you for either," I re- 
turned warmly. "Your lungs are not strong, 
and I fear if you remain here in the cold and 
wet you will not recover." 

. "There's so much in life to live for," he cried 
animatedly; "besides, I'm a little dubious of 
the after world. For a little longer I should 
like to learn what tangible pleasures this world 
offers, rather than tempt the unsubstantiated 
promises of a future state." 

"But surely you believe in an after life?" I 
enquired, in some surprise. 

"It's difficult to believe what one cannot 
prove," he returned evasively. 

"But," I ventured argumentatively, "I can 
imagine that if the total matter in the universe 
is indestructible and cannot be added to or 
taken from, the soul too is indestructible — it 
may be changed, but cannot be destroyed." 

"Ah!" he exclaimed quickly, "you are as- 
[270] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 



suming the reality of the abstract. Suppose I 
do not agree with your hypothesis, and deny 
the existence of the soul! You cannot prove 
me wrong. Sometimes I fear," he continued 
more softly, "the soul, or what we conceive to 
be the soul, is merely the reflection of poor Hu- 
manity beating its anxious wings against the 
horror of extinction." 

"Or the shadow of a poor physician scuttling 
away from the terrors of your philosophy," I 
laughed. "You iconoclasts would pull our 
castles-in-the-air about our ears and leave us 
standing in the ruins." 

"I'll build another castle for you," he re- 
turned with a queer, sad smile, as though he 
sympathised with my dilemma. 

"But not to-night," I urged, as I arose to go; 
"you must wait until you are stronger; you 
have been talking too much already for one so 
ill, and I must say good night." 

It was several days later, and the youthful 
philosopher was making good progress on the 
road to recovery, when another young officer, 
very similar in appearance to our patient, 
drove up to the door of the hospital in a motor 
car. He was attended by two senior officers of 
[271] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

distinguished appearance and very military- 
bearing, and who showed considerable defer- 
ence towards their young companion. 

Apparently they had come from the front 
and, as the colonel showed them about the va- 
rious wards, took the keenest interest in the 
patients. At last they came to the young 
Welshman's room. As they entered he turned 
to look at them, and, dropping his arms, sud- 
denly lay at "attention" in bed. 

"Llewellyn, by Jove!" exclaimed the 
youngest of the trio, as he stepped forward and 
shook our patient warmly by the hand. "I had 
no idea you were here. How are you?" 

"Much better, thank you, your Royal High- 
ness," said Llewellyn, with his ready smile, 
"and greatly honoured by your visit, sir." 

"I hope it is nothing serious," said the Prince 
of Wales kindly — for it was he — "you are look- 
ing quite bright!" 

"It isn't very serious, I believe, sir — a touch 
of pleurisy, that's all. But the doctors insist 
on sending me home on account of it. That is 
my chief grievance." 

The young Prince smiled understandingly. 
It was not so long since he too had unwillingly 
[272] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

been detained at home by illness. His blue 
eyes lit up with a quick sympathy as he re- 
marked : 

"I hadn't expected to find an old class-mate 
here; I hope you will soon be quite well again 
and able to return to France." 

"I shall do my best to get well soon," Lle- 
wellyn answered thoughtfully; "but the doc- 
tors seem to consider my constitution too deli- 
cate for trench life, sir. I have the consola- 
tion, though, of knowing that our college is 
well represented at the front, for of the sev- 
enty-five students at Magdalen only five are 
home, and three of those were physically 
unfit." 

"Isn't that a splendid record!" cried the 
Prince with enthusiasm. "It makes one feel 
proud of one's college." 

They chatted on various topics for a few 
moments longer, and then as his Royal High- 
ness turned to go he exclaimed : 

"This is a wonderful hospital; a great credit 

to Canada! I must write father and tell him 

about it. I consider it one of the finest in 

France. I am sure you will do well here. 

[273] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Good-bye, dear chap, and the best of good luck 
to you!" 

The kindly and earnest good wishes of his 
Royal young friend touched Llewellyn deeply, 
and there was a suspicious trace of moisture in 
his eyes as he returned : 

"Good-bye, sir, and many, many thanks for 
your kindness in coming to see me." 



[274] 



CHAPTER XVII 

The senior major bought a motor car. It 
was his supreme extravagance. If there were 
others who frittered away their substance in 
riotous living, at least the major could not be 
accused of such frivolity. He had none of the 
petty vices which eat like a wicked moth into 
the fabric of one's income. Any vice that got 
at his income bit it off in large chunks and 
bolted it before you could say "Jack Robin- 
son." The motor car was the greatest of these. 
There may be some who do not consider a mo- 
tor car a vice. The only answer I can give 
them is that they never saw the major's car. 
When he first unearthed its skeletal remains in 
the hospital garage, it bore a remote resem- 
blance to a vehicle. It had part of an engine, 
four tireless wheels, and places which were 
meant for seats. A vision of its possibilities 
immediately arose before his mind's eye, and 
he could see it, rehabilitated and carefully fed, 
[ 275 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

growing into a "thing of beauty and a joy for- 
ever." 

Some of the officers argued it was German, 
because no such thing could have been made by 
human beings. Others maintained it had been 
left on the hospital grounds centuries before 
and the garage had grown up around it. The 
maker, out of modesty, had omitted to inscribe 
his name, but it had a number whose hiero- 
glyphics antedated "Bill Stump's Mark." The 
original owner sacrificed it, from a spirit of pa- 
triotism, no doubt, for the paltry sum of three 
hundred dollars, and in the course of time, with 
the trifling expenditure of three hundred and 
fifty more, two mechanics succeeded in getting 
it started. 

That was a memorable day when, with a 
noise like an asthmatic steam-roller, it came 
ambling out of the hospital yard, peered 
around the comer of the fence, and struck off 
down the road at a clip of three good English 
miles an hour. 

We rushed to the door to see it, and when 

the smoke of the exhaust cleared a little, there 

sat the major ensconced in the front seat. 

There was a beatific smile about his mouth and 

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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

a gleam of pride in his eye — the pride of pos- 
session. He wasn't quite sure what it was he 
possessed, but it was something which moved, 
something instinct with life. 

"Sounds a bit noisy yet," he murmured con- 
fidentially to himself, "but it will loosen up 
when it gets running a while." 

What prophetic sagacity there was in this 
remark! It did loosen up, and to such good 
purpose that several parts fell off upon the 
road. Little by little it got going, and in less 
than a month you might have heard it almost 
any bright afternoon, groaning in the garage 
preparatory to sallying forth upon its quest. 

But about this time another event of such 
importance occurred that the major's car was 
thrust into the background. We had in our 
hospital a venerable old sergeant of peripa- 
tetic propensities, who had two claims to recog- 
nition : first, that he was, and is, the oldest sol- 
dier in the Canadian force in France ; and sec- 
ondly — but this was never proved — ^that he 
could "lick," according to his own testimony, 
any man within fifteen years of his age in that 
part of the world. 

Sergeant Plantsfield, our postman and gen- 
[277] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

eral messenger, travelled into Boulogne and 
back from once to thrice daily — in other words, 
inside the year he accomplished a motor trip 
of sufficient length to encompass the earth. 
His stock of rumours was inexhaustible, for he 
developed and launched upon an unapprecia- 
tive world at least one new tale daily. 

Now if there is one thing a soldier loves 
more than another it's a "rumour"; and the 
more glaringly absurd, the more readily he will 
listen to it. So when the worthy old sergeant 
burst into the hospital with excited eyes, 
flushed cheeks and cap all awry after his latest 
trip from Boulogne, the boys crowded round to 
hear the news. 

"They're here! By gosh! They're here at 
last!" he shouted, as he deposited his overflow- 
ing mail bag in the hall and looked triumphant- 
ly from one to another of his listeners. 

"Who's here," demanded Barker, "the Ger- 
mans?" 

"Germans be blowed!" declared the sergeant 
with scornful emphasis. "They won't never be 
here!" 

"Put a little pep in it, dad!" said Huxford. 
"Wot is it?" 

[278] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The sergeant waited a full minute to give 
impress to his announcement, and then in a 
tense whisper ejaculated: "The rest of the Ca- 
nadians are in France — the whole division's at 
the front!" 

There was a dead silence for a moment, and 
then a wild cheer went up that shook the hall 
until the windows rattled. 

"Ye ain't stuffin' us again?" Wilson queried 
anxiously, when the noise had died away. "Ye 
done it so often afore." 

Plantsfield looked at him with withering con- 
tempt. That his word — the word of the chief 
"rumourist" of the unit — should be doubted 
was almost too much for human endurance. 

"I'll stuff you, ye young cub, if ye dare to 
doubt a man old enough to be yer grand- 
father," he returned scathingly; and then turn- 
ing to the others he continued: "I seen the 
Mechanical Transport near Boulogne and was 
talkin' to them." 

"Oh, I'll bet you wos talkin', all right," Wil- 
son came back vindictively, "if ye got within 
fifty yards uv 'em." 

Plantsfield's garrulity was proverbial. He 
had been known to buttonhole generals and 
[279] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

draw them to one side to whisper a choice bit 
of scandal in their unwilhng ears — his age ex- 
cusing him from reprimand. 

He looked wrathfully at Wilson, but that 
wily youth kept his rosy cheeks carefully out 
of arm-shot. Turning back to his more re- 
spectful auditors, and for the nonce ignoring 
the disrespectful one, he pursued : 

"The Supply Column on their way to the 
front saw a German aeroplane over them, for- 
got discipline in their excitement, jumped 
down off their waggons and blazed away at it 
with their rifles." 

"Without orders, I'll bet?" exclaimed Jog- 
man, slapping his knee. 

"Of course," grinned Plantsfield. 

Honk had been standing with his mouth 
open, listening intently and taking in every 
word orally. He opened it a shade wider as 
Jogman finished speaking, and was about to 
make an observation, when Huxford, who was 
somewhat of a mimic, took the words out of 
his mouth : 

"Just like them blawsted Canydians — 'avin' 
their poke at th' bleedin' Hun. W'y cawn't 
[280] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

they wyte f er h'orders like h'everybody h'else — 
wyte until 'e gits aw'y?" 

Honk's indignant protest was drowned in 
the general clamour which followed this sally, 
but his eyes — individually — said wonders. 

At the outset discipline was a sore point with 
the Canadians. Like the peoples of all free- 
horn countries, it took a long time to suppress 
the desire for individual initiative and an in- 
nate independence resented authority. But as 
the war progressed, Tommy and his seniors 
came to realise the absolute necessity for dis- 
cipline, and bowed with what grace they might 
before its yoke. Perhaps what reconciled them 
most was the acquired knowledge that it per- 
vaded all ranks from the generals down. They 
soon saw that the chain of responsibility must 
have no missing link. 

In the early days of the war, however, on 
Salisbury Plains in the rain and mud, discipline 
was almost an impossibility, and officers seek- 
ing to inculcate this quality in their men had 
many strange experiences. 

A Tommy was doing ''sentry go" one eve- 
ning in front of his battalion lines when an offi- 
cer approached to speak to him. Tommy kept 
[ 281 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE . 

his rifle firmly on his shoulder, at the "slope," 
and made no attempt to come to attention or 
salute. The officer, wishing to see if he un- 
derstood his duty, demanded : 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Just walkin' up an' down," Tommy re- 
plied nonchalantly, forgetting, or at least 
omitting that important suffix : '^'^sir." 

"Just walking up and down," the officer 
reiterated, with annoyance. "What do you 
suppose you're walking up and down for?" 

"To see that none of them guys comes in 
soused an' disorderly, I s'pose," he replied, 
hut without any apparent interest in his oc- 
cupation. 

"Don't you know who I am?" the officer de- 
manded testily, exasperated beyond endurance 
by such slackness. 

"No," Tommy answered shortly. The ab- 
sence of the "sir" was striking, and the tone 
implied further that he didn't care. 

'Tm the commanding officer of your hat- 
talionr Each word dropped like an icicle 
from the official lips. 

"Holy — Jumpin' — Judas!" Tommy ex- 
claimed, doing the "present arms" in three 
[282] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

distinct movements — one to each word; "court- 
martial fer me!" 

It was too much for the gravity of the most 
hardened disciplinarian. The colonel turned 
and fled from the spot until he was far enough 
away that the God of Discipline might not be 
incensed at his shouts of laughter. 

Tommy escaped the court-martial, but he 
wondered all evening what a sentry really was 
supposed to do. 

It was almost a month after Plantsfield's 
momentous announcement before the Canadi- 
ans commenced arriving at our hospital. They 
came in twos and threes, scattered amongst 
large numbers of other British troops, but they 
were mostly cases of illness or slight wounds — 
and we had little opportunity for comparing 
the stoicism of our own boys with that of the 
English, Irish and Scotch who arrived in 
droves. What would our lads be like when 
they too came back broken and torn? Would 
they be as patient and brave as the other Brit- 
ish Tommies ? Could they measure up to the 
standard of heroism set by these men of the 
Bull Dog breed? We waited, we watched and 
we wondered. 

[283] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

There was only desultory fighting during 
the month of March, and most of the wounds 
were from "snipers" or shrapnel. 

The first seriously wounded Canadian to 
reach the hospital was an artillery ofiicer, from 
Alberta. A small German shell had dropped 
into his dug-out and exploded so close to him 
that it was a miracle he escaped at all. When 
he arrived with his head completely swathed in 
bandages, and fifty or more wounds about his 
body, he looked more like an Egyptian mum- 
my than a man. His mouth and the tip of 
his nose were the only parts of his body ex- 
posed to view, and they were burned and 
swollen to such an extent that, apart from their 
position, they conveyed no impression of their 
true identity. It was somewhat gruesome to 
hear a deep bass voice, without the slightest 
tremour, emerge from this mass of bandages. 
It was as if the dead had suddenly come to 
life. 

"Would you be kind enough to put a cigar- 
ette in my mouth, sir?" he asked. 

One is tempted to believe that after this 
war the eternal question will no longer be 
"Woman," but "Cigarette." 
[284] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"Do you think you can smoke?" I asked him 
doubtfully. 

Something remotely resembling a laugh 
came from the bandaged head, but there was 
not the slightest visible sign of mirth. 

"I can manage it fairly well," he returned 
confidently; "my right armr has only a few 
wounds." 

Only a few wounds I And he could lie 
there and speak calmly of them! He might 
have been excused for hysterics. The English 
officers in the other beds smiled appreciatively : 

"He's a brick!" I heard one murmur. 

The' nursing sister, a keen, young woman 
of ability, looked across the bed at me with 
a slight smile of pride. She made no re- 
mark but as she leaned over her patient to un- 
wind his bandages, a flush of pleasure at his 
heroism dyed her cheeks. We would have no 
cause to be ashamed of our own boys. As we 
stood beside the bed of that gallant chap, the 
epitome of all that was best and bravest from 
home, a lump arose in our throats and choked 
back speech. 

With the aid of cocaine, I removed about a 
dozen small pieces of shell from his chest and 
[285] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

arms. His face was mottled with myriads of 
splinters of stone, and his right eye was prac- 
tically gone. The hair had been completely 
burned off his head and in the centre of the 
scalp a piece of nickel, about the size of a penny 
and as thin as a wafer, had been driven. One 
large piece of shell had buried itself in the 
right leg; half a dozen more smaller scraps 
were in the left; his wrist watch had been 
smashed to atoms and the main spring was 
embedded in the flesh. 

"I can't see yet," he explained, "so please 
watch where I lay my cigarette. I suppose my 
eyes will come around in time?" 

How much would we have given to have 
been able to assure him of such a possibility! 
I had grave doubts, but answered as encourag- 
ingly as I dared. Reggy came in later to ex- 
amine the eye and shook his head over it de- 
spondently. 

"There's a chance for the left eye," he re- 
marked to me, as we passed out into the hall, 
"but the right eye will have to be removed as 
soon as he is able to stand the operation." 

(Apart from this loss, in the course of time, 
he recovered perfectly. ) 

[286] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

We went into the room of a young officer 
from British Colmnbia, who had also just 
reached the hospital. He was a tall, hand- 
some, fair-haired youth. He rose to his feet, 
trembling violently, as we entered. He was 
still dressed and after we had passed the cus- 
tomary greetings I enquired: 

"Have you been wounded?" 

"No," he replied with a smile, although his 
lip quivered as he spoke. "I wish I had been. 
It's rotten luck to get put out of business like 
this. I got in the way of a 'Jack Johnson'; 
it played me a scurvy trick — shell-shock, they 
tell me, that's all." 

It might be all, but it surely was enough. 
There is nothing more pitiable than the sight 
of a strong, active young man, trembling con- 
tinuously like an aspen leaf. Shell-shock, that 
strange, intangible condition which leaves its 
victims nervous wrecks for months or years, 
was uncommon in the early days of the war, 
but with the advent of thousands of guns is 
much more common now. 

We chatted with him for a little while, and 
then continued our pilgrimage to the larger 
wards. Nursing Sister Medoc, a tall graceful 
[ 287 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

girl, a typical trained nurse, met us at the 
door. 

"Here's a strange case, Major," she re- 
marked, as she pointed to one of the new ar- 
rivals who had just been placed in bed. "He 
is quite insane and thinks he is still in the 
trenches, but he refuses to speak." 

"He must be insane if he won't speak to 
you. Sister," Reggy suggested facetiously. 

"That will be quite enough from you, young 
man," she returned with calm severity. 

Sister Medoc preceded us into the ward, 
and Reggy whispered confidentially in my ear : 

"Do you know, you can't 'jolly' our trained 
nurses — they're too clever. Sometimes I think 
they're scarcely human." 

^'You're quite right, Reggy," I returned 
consolingly, "too many are divine." 

Reggy looked as if he would have liked to 
argue the point, but by this time we had reached 
the bedside of our patient. I addressed a few 
words to him, but he made no response and 
returned my look with a fixed and discomfiting 
stare. I wondered how, if he refused to talk, 
the nurse could tell he believed himself still in 
the trenches. 

[288] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

The riddle was shortly solved. Turning on 
his side and leaning on one elbow, he grasped 
the bar at the head of the bed and cautiously 
drew himself up until he could look over the 
"parapet." He shaded his eyes with one hand 
and gazed fearfully for a moment or two into 
the mists of "No Man's Land." Then quickly 
raising his elbow in an attitude of self-de- 
fence, he shrank back, listening intently to 
some sound we could not hear, and suddenly, 
with a low cry of alarm, dived beneath the 
sheets (into the trench) as the imaginary shell 
went screaming over his head. 

As soon as it had passed he was up at the 
"parapet" again, straining his eyes and ears 
once more. His nostrils dilated tremulously 
as his breath came in quick short gasps. His 
upper lip curled in anger, and in that grim 
moment of waiting for the German charge, his 
teeth snapped firmly together and every muscle 
of his body was tense. 

By the strained look in his eyes we knew 
the enemy was almost upon him — Reggy and I 
in the forefront. With a wild cry of hate and 
fury he sprang at us, lunging forward des- 
perately with his bayonet. Reggy backed pre- 
[ 289 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

cipitately against me, but before he had time 
to speak our assailant, with a shiver of horror, 
had retreated into his "dug-out." 

"Thank the Lord that was only an imagi- 
nary bayonet!" Reggy gasped; "I could hear 
my finish ringing the door bell." 

"If we had been real Germans, Reggy," I 
returned with conviction, "we'd be running 
yet!" 

"Do you think he'll recover?" Reggy asked. 

"Yes. The attack is so violent and sudden; 
I think he has every chance. We'll send him 
to England to-morrow." 

Another month passed. It was the night of 
the twenty-second of April when this startling 
message reached the hospital : 

"Empty every possible bed. Ship all pa- 
tients to England. Draw hospital marquees, 
beds, blankets and paliasses, and have your ac- 
commodation for patients doubled in twenty- 
four hours." 

Something unlooked for had happened. We 
worked like slaves. The hospital grounds soon 
[ 290 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

looked like a miniature tented city. In half 
the time allotted us we were able to report that 
we were ready for six hundred wounded. 

A despatch rider, covered with mud, whirled 
up to the door on his motorcycle. A little 
crowd gathered round him. 

"Anything new?" we asked him excitedly. 

"The Canadians are in one of the most 
frightful battles of the war," he replied. "The 
wounded will be coming in to-night." 

And this was the day for which we had been 
waiting! This was the day for which we had 
crossed the sea ! It was as if an iron hand had 
suddenly gripped the heart and held it as in a 
vise. We asked for further news, but he knew 
nothing more, and with anxious and impatient 
minds all we could do was — ^wait. 



[291] 



CHAPTER XVIII 

As the sun hid its face on that tragic evening 
of the twenty-second of April, 1915, the Turcos 
and Canadians, peering over their parapets, 
were astonished to see a heavy yellowish mist 
rolling slowly and ominously from the German 
trenches. In the light breeze of sundown it 
floated lazily toward them, clinging close to the 
earth. Although the Turcos thought it a pe- 
culiar fog, they did not realise its true sig- 
nificance until it rolled into their trenches and 
enveloped them in its blinding fumes, stinging 
their eyes, choking their lungs and making 
them deathly ill. They could neither see nor 
breathe and those who could not get away fell 
in heaps where they were, gasping for air, blue 
in the face, dying in the most frightful agony. 

Germany, discarding the last tattered rem- 
nant of her mantle of honour, had plunged 
brazenly into a hideous crime — poison-gas had 
been used for the first time in the history of 
war I 

[292] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Coughing, sneezing, vomiting; with every 
breath cutting like a knife, crying tears of 
blood, the unfortunate Turcos who had not al- 
ready fallen, fled from the accursed spot. The 
horses too, choking and startled, whinneying 
with fear, stampeded with their waggons or 
gun limbers in a mad endeavour to escape the 
horror of the poisoned air. A storm of shrap- 
nel, high explosive and machine-gun bullets 
followed the flying masses and tore them to 
pieces as they ran. 

For four miles the Allied trenches were left 
unprotected, and a quarter million Germans 
who had been awaiting this opportune moment, 
started to pour through the broad gap on their 
drive for Calais. 

A brigade of Canadian artillery in Pope- 
ringhe received a hurried message that evening 
to move forward, take up a position on the 
road near Ypres and wait for further orders. 
They had but a faint notion of the great trial 
through which they were to pass. 

When they arrived at the point designated 
it was almost dark and the noise of the German 
bombardment was terrific. Presently along 
[293] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the road from Ypres came crowds of fleeing 
civilians. Feeble old men tottering along, tear- 
ful women carrying their babes or dragging 
other little ones by the hand, invalids in broken 
down waggons or wheel-barrows, wounded ci- 
vilians hastily bandaged and supported by their 
despairing friends hurried by in ever-increas- 
ing numbers. Some had little bundles under 
their arms, some with packs upon their backs — 
bedding, household goods or clothes, hastily 
snatched from their shattered homes. With 
white terror-stricken faces, wringing their 
hands, moaning or crying, they ran or stag- 
gered by in thousands. Their homes destroyed, 
their friends scattered or killed, with death 
behind and starvation before, they ran, and the 
greedy shells, as if incensed at being robbed of 
their prey, came screaming after them. 

To add to the confusion and horror of the 
evening, the Turcos, wild-eyed and capless, 
having thrown away their guns and all encum- 
brances, came running in stark terror across 
the fields shouting that the Germans had 
broken through and would be upon them any 
moment. They cried to the artillery to escape 
while they yet had a chance — ^that all was lost! 
[294] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

It required more heroism to stand before 
that onrush of terrorised humanity than to face 
death a dozen times over. To the Canadian 
artillery these were the most tragic and try- 
ing hours of their lives, but with stolid and 
grim determination they stood through it, wait- 
ing impatiently for the order to move forward. 

All through the night the homeless, despair- 
ful creatures from St. Julien, Vlamertinge, 
Ypres and the villages round about streamed 
by in a heartrending, bemoaning multitude. 
Sometimes in agonised fear they broke through 
the ranks of the soldiers, stumbling onward 
toward Poperinghe. 

The shriek of shells and the thunder of the 
guns continued hour after hour, while on high 
the vivid glare of bursting shrapnel cast a weird 
unearthly glow over the land. Between the 
blasts of artillery, from time to time on the 
wings of the wind, human cries blending in a 
gruesome murmur added to the horror of the 
night. 

Through it all those men of iron stood by 
their guns waiting for the word of command. 
At 3.00 a.m. it came. A murmur of thankful- 
ness that at last they were to do something went 
[295] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

up, and in a twinkling they were galloping 
eagerly forward toward their objective. 

They chose the most advanced position in 
the line of guns, close to the Yser, and soon 
were in their places ready for the fight. Shells 
fell about them in thousands, but the men 
happy to be in the thick of the battle turned 
to their guns with a will and worked like mad. 

The dawn broke, but there was no cessation 
of the fight. The guns became hot, and 
screeched complainingly as each shell tore 
through the swollen muzzle, but still there was 
no reprieve or rest, and all day long they 
belched forth smoke and death over the Yser's 
bank. 

When the Germans commenced to pour 
through the gap which their treacherous gas 
had made, they overlooked one important ob- 
stacle. On their left were the men who had 
lived through four months of misery in the rain 
and mud of Salisbury Plains, each day laying 
up a bigger score against the Bosches for set- 
tlement. 

With this unhappy memory, it was not likely 
that the First Canadians were to be ousted 
[ 296 ] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

from their trenches or killed by gas alone with- 
out a struggle for revenge. For some reason 
only their left wing had received an extreme 
dose of the gas. Many fell and died, but those 
who remained stuffed handkerchiefs into their 
mouths, covered their noses and held on like 
grim death for the great attack they knew was 
coming. They had not long to wait. Most of 
them had never seen the enemy before, and the 
sight of thousands of Germans marching for- 
ward in dense masses was to Tommy a distinct 
and unlooked for pleasure. But on they came 
in a multitude so great that it looked as if no 
guns on earth could mow them down. 

In spite of the sight of these great numbers, 
it was with the utmost difficulty that the offi- 
cers could restrain their men from rushing out 
at the enemy with the bayonet. Tommy ar- 
gued: "Between Salisbury Plains and Wipers 
we've been stuck in the mud for six months, 
never so much as seeing the nose of a German, 
and now here they come, just asking to be 
killed and you won't let us get out at them!" 
The mere fact of being outnumbered twenty 
times over didn't seem sufficient excuse to dis- 
appointed Tommy for remaining under cover. 
[297] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

Myriads of self-satisfied Bosches came 
marching past, as though the world were theirs. 
They were due for a rude awakening. They 
had not progressed far when the extreme vio- 
lence of the counter attack caused them to 
pause in irresolute wonder. Who were these 
bold, desperate men who dared remain in the 
trenches when half an army had passed? No 
army in its senses would remain with unpro- 
tected flank. There must be tremendous rein- 
forcements at their back — so reasoned the Ger- 
mans. To stay with one wing "in the air" 
seemed too much madness even for the "un- 
trained" Canadians. 

But one thing was clear to the Teuton mind ; 
whoever they were, they were a decided menace 
to their advance and must be annihilated or 
forced back at all costs before the German 
Army could progress. But what a lot of anni- 
hilating they seemed to take I 

The third brigade swung across the enemy's 
flank and poured such a withering fire in- 
to the Bosches that they were sore pressed, 
with all their horde, to hold their own. Men 
and guns were fighting back to back, grimly, 
[298] 



THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

determinedly, unflinchingly and with invincible 
valour. 

The enemy artillery now had command of the 
main road to Ypres, and of many of the lesser 
roads, and was keeping up a hellish fire on all 
to prevent reinforcements or supplies from 
reaching the Canadians. 

All that night our plucky men fought them 
oif, driving them back through the woods. 
They retook four captured guns. All the next 
day, thousands without food or water fought 
side by side with unconquerable spirit. In im- 
possible positions, raked by enemy shell fire, 
without chance to eat or sleep, they held on and 
tore at the Germans like angry wolves, fight- 
ing with such unheard of ferocity that their 
opponents were absolutely staggered. 

If a seemingly hopeless message came from 
headquarters to a battalion: "Can you hold on 
a few hours longer?", back would come the 
answer piping hot: "We can!" 

Again and again the doubting question came 
to the trenches: "Can you still hold on?", and 
again and again returned the same enhearten- 
ing reply: "We can and will hold on!" 

Then an unheard of thing occurred — neglect 
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of an order. The message from headquarters, 
couched in generous words, read: "You have 
done all that human power can do. Your posi- 
tion is untenable. You must retreat !" 

A flush of disdainful anger swept over the 
officer's face as he read this message, and he 
replied in three words : "Retreat be damned !" 

The Canadians had not learned the meaning 
of the word "retreat." It had been left out of 
their martial vocabulary — some one was re- 
sponsible for this omission. The Germans tried 
to teach them its meaning with gas, with bayo- 
net and with shell; but thick-headed Tommy 
and his officers always misunderstood it for 
"hold" or "advance." It took four days of 
starvation and four sleepless, awful nights to 
make the most intelligent amongst them un- 
derstand the word, and even then it was a scant 
concession to the Bosche. 

Little bands of men, the remnants of daunt- 
less battalions, holding isolated, advanced 
points, were commanded to fall back in order 
to straighten out the line. But the brave fel- 
lows who had so gallantly defended their posts, 
were loath to give them up. Unnerved, weak 
and exhausted, they still wanted to remain, and 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

when their officers insisted on their leaving, 
some actually sat down in the trench and wept 
bitter tears of humiliation and chagrin. 

During these four fateful days British and 
French reinforcements had been rushed up to 
fill the gap, and further German progress was 
impossible. Harassed from the flank, beaten 
back from the front, decimated and discour- 
aged, the Germans had suffered a disastrous 
and momentous defeat — for to them Calais, 
their greatest hope, was irretrievably lost. 

During the great battle the Field Ambu- 
lance in which Jack Wellcombe was stationed 
was working night and day at fever pitch. 
Time and again the German guns sought out 
their quarters and big shells levelled to earth 
the houses round about; but, as if the hand of 
Providence were watching them, the little field 
hospital escaped with its patients each time, 
just before the buildings were wrecked. 

Five times during the three days this for- 
tunate move was accomplished not a moment 
too soon, but still they stuck doggedly to the 
village, as close as possible to the guns. Sleep 
was out of the question. Even if the noise 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

and imminent danger might have been ignored, 
the streams of wounded coming in had to re- 
ceive attention, and during those frightful days 
no man flinched before his precarious and ardu- 
ous duty. 

In the seventeen consecutive days and nights 
of the artillery battle there was never a full 
minute's break in the bombardment from either 
side. 

On the fourth day, during the lull in the 
infantry fighting, the door of the field ambu- 
lance was suddenly darkened by the figure of a 
man. He staggered in. His eyes were blood- 
shot. His clothes were torn and covered with 
mud, his chin had not been shaved for days 
and his appearance betokened utter weariness 
and exhaustion. 

Jack Wellcombe met him at the door and, in 
spite of his unkempt and wild appearance, rec- 
ognised him at once as the Commanding Officer 
of a Canadian battalion. 

"Good morning, sir," he said in his usual 
cheery manner. 

The colonel looked toward him with glazed, 
unseeing eyes and without a sign of recogni- 
tion. 

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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

"I want four coffins," he muttered, ignoring 
Jack's greeting. 

"You want what, sir?" Jack exclaimed, with 
a puzzled look. 

"Four coffins," he repeated with mechanical 
firmness and in a tone of command, "and I 
want them at once !" 

"Come in, sir, and sit down," Jack urged. 
"You're unnerved from this wild fight and lack 
of sleep. You need a rest — not a coffin." 

"I know what I want," he repeated with 
calm insistence, "and it's four coffins — to bury 
four of my officers." 

Jack thought the man's reason had gone as 
a result of the terrific strain, but decided to 
humour him. 

"Come over to my billet with me and get a 
shave, a wash and a good glass of grog, and 
then when you're feeling better we'll go out 
together and get what you want, and I'll go 
back to the lines with you." 

The colonel passed his hand across his fore- 
head as though he were trying without success 
to recollect something, and then without a word 
sufltered Jack to take his arm and lead him 
away. When they arrived at me Jll?*- Jack 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

gave him a stiff glass of brandy and asked him 
to lie down while the water was being heated 
for his bath. Before it was ready he had fallen 
sound asleep and Jack did not disturb him for 
a couple of hours, when he was aroused with 
difficulty. 

The batman meanwhile brushed the caked 
mud from his clothes, and by the time he had 
had a bath and a shave and a bite of lunch he 
had begun to look more like himself. He 
seemed greatly depressed and talked little; he 
was like a man walking in his sleep and still 
in the throes of a gruesome nightmare. 

As they started off up the street of the vil- 
lage Jack remarked: "You don't really want 
those coffins for which you asked me this morn- 
ing, do you?" 

The colonel looked uncomprehendingly at 
him. Without answering the question, he 
asked in return: 

"Is there a florist's shop in the village?" 

"Well, not exactly a 'florist's,' " Jack replied, 
"but there is a place at the far end of the 
street where we might get some flowers." 

"Let us go there!" 

He spoke no further word until they arrived 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

at the little house which Jack pointed out as a 
likely place. They entered the room and after 
some slight delay madame produced a vase 
filled with deep red roses. The colonel selected 
four of the largest, paid the woman and with- 
out a comment walked out with the roses in 
his hand. 

"Get me a motor car," he said to Jack; "we 
have several miles to go." 

The mechanical transport supplied them 
with a small car and they started on their 
strange mission. They pulled up a few miles 
back of the firing line and tramped silently 
across the fields, the colonel still clutching the 
roses, until they came to a spot where a num- 
ber of Tommies were standing by four open 
graves which they had just dug. Beside the 
graves rested four shapeless bundles covered 
with blankets. 

"Do you know the burial service?" the 
colonel asked Jack suddenly. 

"I'm afraid I don't remember it well enough 
to repeat it," Jack replied. 

"It doesn't matter much," he went on 
thoughtfully, "I can say it myself." 

The men got ready with their ropes to lower 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

the packages, one by one, into their respective 
resting places. It was all that was left of four 
gallant officers of a gallant battalion. The 
colonel repeated the burial service from mem- 
ory, word for word: 

"Ashes to ashes — dust to dust ..." 
But before the earth closed over them he 
stood at the foot of each grave, silent as the 
grave itself, and dropping a rose tenderly upon 
each stood at attention, his right hand at the 
"salute." As the earth fell dully upon the 
blankets he turned away with tears in his eyes 
and said simply: 

"Poor brave chaps ! I loved them all ! God 
keep them. They did their duty!" 

It was ten o'clock at night as Reggy and I, 
crossing the tracks at the Gave Maritime in 
Boulogne, saw a battalion which had just dis- 
embarked from the cross-channel boat drawn 
up on the quay, ready to entrain for the front. 

We walked toward them in a spirit of idle 
curiosity — for the sight was one to which we 
were well accustomed — when, under the dim 
light of a partly shaded street lamp, we no- 
ticed that they were from home. We ap- 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

proached a little group of officers who were 
chatting animatedly together, and among them 
found several whom we knew. 

"What's the truth about this big show the 
Canadians are in at the front?" one cried. 
"There are all sorts of rumours in England. 
Some say eight hundred casualties; some say 
eight thousand." 

"I'm afraid eight thousand is nearer the 
mark," I replied hesitatingly, fearing to dis- 
courage them. 

"Eight thousand!" he echoed; and then an 
eager cry went up from the little group : 

"By Jove! Hope they'll hurry us on to the 
front!" 

And I was afraid of discouraging them! 
How little I understood my own countrymen I 

"All aboard !" came the call a moment later, 
and the enthusiastic Tommies eagerly clam- 
bered into the waiting coaches. As the train 
clank-clanked along the street and left us 
standing there alone in the darkness, back to 
our ears came the familiar but ribald strain of 
"Hail, hail, the gang's all here!" 

No matter in what strange words it may find 
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THE FIRST CANADIANS IN FRANCE 

vent, the care-free spirit of song is the true 
spirit of the army. 

"You can't discourage men like that," said 
Reggy with a smile half amusement and half 
unconscious pride. 

And each occupied with his own thoughts 
we turned and walked silently down the quay. 



THE END 



[ 308 ] 



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